


In Bits and Pieces

by reiley



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Exploration, Doctor Who References, Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds, F/M, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, Other, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 83,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiley/pseuds/reiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of a fill-in-the-blanks story throughout the entire series: How they pull the pieces together after the world shatters, focusing mainly on Jack and Ianto, but all the others are there, too. Takes place between 'Exit Wounds' and 'The Stolen Earth', goes through all of series 1 and 2, and far back into the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST!!! It is my own personal belief that the episodes ‘Sleeper’ and ‘Meat’ make more sense if they were swapped around. I have many reasons for this and, should anyone show an interest, would be happy to discuss them in detail. So, for the purposes of this story, bear in mind that the order of events is: KKBB -> Meat -> TtLM -> Sleeper. All others have been left the same.
> 
> originally posted: 06/15/08

* * *

\- **Events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order the continuous thread of revelation**.  
\- Eudora Welty

 

Life moves in cycles, like the seasons of this planet. The withering, wilting, dying of autumn leads to the frozen cleansing of winter leads to the birth of spring and thriving new life of summer until the earth tilts away from the sun once again, starting the process all over. In every life-sustaining part of the universe the balance is there, the cycle continues - birth-life-death-birth and so on and so forth for all eternity. Each ending is only a new beginning.

Even Jack - the one constant, never-ending, fixed anomaly in all of time and space - is not exempt from the cycle of life. He feels the joy, sorrow, presence, absence like anyone else, forced to the outside, always watching. And there isn’t a goddamn thing he can do about it.

Sitting at his desk in the hub, Jack stares at the abandoned wrist strap and the blank mission reports. Then he sweeps it all off into one of the desk drawers. Sometimes life really bites.

It’s been a week since that day, the day that their world ended.

But it’s always right back to the beginning.

\---

“Coffee?” Ianto leans over the couch, holding a mug out to Gwen.

She starts, wipes at her eyes and looks up to him. “Oh, um,” she sniffles, offering a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Ianto.” She takes the mug from him and brings it up to her face, inhaling the sharp, bitter aroma. “That’s…”

“Strong, yes. Jack’s special brew. I thought it might be needed.” Ianto slowly walks around the couch to sit beside her. They both stare over toward Jack’s office. He is just a shadow on the glass. Ianto looks away, settling his hands in his lap. “He says he can’t get the taste of dirt out of his mouth. Coffee is the only thing strong enough to cover it.”

“Oh my God.” Gwen covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes leaking fresh tears, her breath stuttering.

He places a hand on her shoulder, pats it lightly. “It took me nearly two hours to wash all the dirt out of his hair. Not to mention… other places.” Ianto meets her eyes and mock shudders.

Gwen laughs out loud at him then immediately slaps a hand over her mouth again. Her breath hitches and she turns her wide eyes up to him. “We shouldn’t be…”

“Yes, Gwen, we should. We need to.” He squeezes her arm, but she moves in close to him, her head falling to his shoulder. Ianto stiffens, momentarily thrown, but he wraps his arm around her shoulders, accepting the invasion. He rests his chin atop her hair. “He needs us.”

“But how did he-”

“He says he can’t remember it. Being down there. Like he was unconscious the whole time.”

“You mean he was..?”

“Dead? I don’t know. Something to do with that ring that John gave him. It put him in some sort of hibernation as well as sending out a signal. Stasis, he said it was like being in a bubble or something. He doesn’t want to talk about it. I’m not entirely sure I want to hear about it, to be honest. Listening to that might make me want to kill someone and ‘Captain John’ has already buggered off who knows where, only leaving… And I don’t know which drawer he’s in, so…” Ianto sighs, laying his head back against the couch.

“You don’t…”

“Jack wouldn’t tell me. Didn’t log it officially. It’s not the first time.”

“I can’t believe Jack is keeping him here. In our base. Where Tosh…” Gwen chokes on a sob and tries to wipe her eyes without smearing mascara.

“It’s his brother, Gwen. It’s… Jack doesn’t hold grudges, you know that. Not with the people he… cares about. He always wants to fix everything and that…” Ianto pauses, forces himself to say the name, “Gray is all he has left of that part of his past. Someone he thought he’d lost over…” Ianto’s fingers twitch as he tries to calculate. He mutters, “Shit. Jack’s broken my maths.”

Gwen smiles, almost like normal, and squeezes his hand. Her eyes flick back to Jack’s office. “We shouldn’t let him blame himself.”

“Jack always blames himself. For everything. He always has.” Pulling away from her, Ianto stands and walks away. He finishes quietly, “For as long as I’ve known him.”

 

\- **When ninety-nine percent of us is failure, there's no going back. And I know it's real slow, honey, painful and real slow**.  
\- Matthew Good, 99% of Us is Failure

 

The resounding gunshots echo and fade slowly as Ianto sinks to his knees. Lisa. His beautiful, horrible Lisa. All gone. Everything gone, all for nothing. There’s nothing left. The edges of his vision blur; Ianto sees nothing but her face staring back up at him. The light gone from her eyes, mouth slack, skin pallid under the harsh lights and she…

… _shrieks, “Ianto, we’re going to be late!” He presses his face against her bare stomach, “Don’t care!” She laughs beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him up into a kiss, her breath warm against his neck like…_

_… smoke and flames, searing hot metal, and she’s screaming, screaming, her voice a high, growling whine, her skin so…_

_… soft hand clasped in his own, Lisa drags him down the beach, running wildly in the surf. He hates sand and it’s everywhere, their feet are covered, his trousers getting soaked. “Let’s just jump in the water,” she says, laughing. He shakes his head…_

_… “No, no, no!” Ianto slides across the floor as the doors seal him in. “Let us out!” He bangs his fists against the wall, watching the horrifying images on the monitors, gunfire and shouting, bright hot lights_ …

…gleaming metal and he knows… He _knows_ this is not his Lisa. He has a feeling of being separate from the world around him, movements slower and hearing as though he were underwater. A hand on his arm, he shakes it off, violently. More hands reaching out, touching Lisa, grabbing her… Arms holding him back and far away someone is yelling. Ianto fights with all he has left, but he’s too weak. He can’t let them take her. It’s not fair. She only exists in his memory now and he can’t, he _won’t_ let them take her.

\---

“Owen! Hurry!” Jack tightens his grip on the flailing man, waving Gwen and Tosh back. Ianto calms when they move out of his sight, no longer a threat to him or… his lover. Jack looks down at the partially converted body before him. He sees the metal and weapons, he sees the terror and destruction of all mankind, but he knows that all Ianto sees is the woman he fell in love with. Ianto’s struggling becomes a tad weaker, but Jack does not diminish his hold. He whispers into Ianto’s hair, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” just soft enough so that the others cannot hear.

“Jack! Got it!” Owen rushes back into the room but skids to a halt, freezing in place.

“Quick! Owen, do it while he’s still!” Jack tenses his muscles, holding Ianto as still as possible while Owen plunges the needle in. Ianto fights it off before abruptly going slack in Jack’s…

… _arms holding Ianto upright, his breath comes in great puffs against Jack’s neck, clinging to his shoulders as his orgasm subsides. Jack turns his head, nose bumping along the lightly stubbled jaw. He finds Ianto’s mouth, open and accepting under his lips and tongue, and slowly withdraws his hand from Ianto’s open trousers. He is abruptly pushed back, not hard, not violent, but firm. Ianto’s face scrunches up and he’s breathing hard, fighting tears. “I can’t. Not now.” And Jack thinks he means it’s too soon, but is really saying it’s way too late. “I’m sorry, Jack.” He watches Ianto do up his trousers and straighten his tie before walking away, leaving Jack standing in the darkened corridor, his hand sticky and covered in_ …

… blood under his fingernails, still. So hard to get that out. Jack continues scrubbing, the scalding water cascading over him. The knuckles feel tender and his bones feel bruised from tearing the conversion unit apart. Ianto should be out for another hour or two; Jack wants to be there when he wakes up. He thinks. Does he? Can he? Sometimes he hates this miserable job. This miserable life. _If it weren’t for the Doc-_

Giving up on getting all the blood washed away now, Jack shuts the water off, leaning his head against the tiles of the shower room. He’s relatively clean. On the outside. Another black stain to add to the swirling void that was once his soul. Shaking himself, he grabs a towel and dries off quickly, rubbing the skin raw.

That was the only way it could have ended, he tells himself. No matter which alternate route they might have taken, it never could have led them anywhere else. So, this is where they are: Ianto unconscious on his couch, the team angry, confused and fractious with three more bodies in the morgue. It could have been worse.

After getting dressed, Jack pulls up his desk chair, leans back, a file he isn’t reading spread across his knees, with his feet up on the arm of the couch. He watches Ianto sleep. So young. They are all so very young. He waits patiently until he sees the eyes begin to flicker beneath their lids and slowly open. There’s a moment, a split-second, when those eyes stare up at him the way they used to. And then it’s gone and there is nothing but pain.

\---

There’s something warm and heavy draped over him. Something scratching his cheek as he rolls his head to the side. Something that smells of security and protection. Of the Captain. Ianto blinks his eyes open and there’s the man himself looking down at him and he almost smiles up into that face like he’s done so many times before. Except he’s never done this before. Never woken up to Jack watching him after spending a night together. Never spent a whole night together. Because they don’t do that. That’s not what they are.

Then it all comes crashing back.

He almost pulls Jack’s coat up and over his head, to hide, but instead pushes it off, letting it drop to the floor. He can’t look up yet. Maybe never. He prays that Jack will save the speeches and just get it over with.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours and Ianto doesn’t realize that he’s crying until Jack gets up and walks away from him. He returns only a few moments later, holding out a mug. Ianto accepts it without thinking, but he doesn’t drink. He stares into the swirling liquid. His hands are trembling, but the cup isn’t full enough to slosh.

“It won’t work.” Ianto’s voice comes out soft and scratchy; his throat feels like he’s been swallowing razor blades. Jack is staring at him, but he won’t… can’t look up. “Everything comes back within a few days. They tested me. Twice before I... It always came back to me later. I signed the contract; I know the deal. There’s only one way out of Torchwood for me and this isn’t it.” He holds the mug aloft, finally looking up. Not meeting Jack’s eye just yet, he settles on a place just over the man’s left shoulder.

“That was London. They had nothing on my version of ret-con.” Resuming his seat across from Ianto, Jack puts his feet once again up on the couch and leans back, folding his arms. “It’s just tea. Nothing else. Not very good, probably, but it’s hot. Drink it.” Jack’s voice is harsh, but restrained.

Wiping the tears from his face with an undignified sniff, Ianto sips at the tea. It is weak and he feels bile rising up after the first swallow, but he fights it and downs the whole mug in one more great…

… _gulp of air, shivering violently on the floor of the darkened corridor, the memories are so horrible and it’s all too overwhelming sometimes. He can’t go on, should stop this, should tell… He doesn’t hear the footsteps, barely feels strong hands pulling him up so gently, and a voice in his ear asking what’s wrong, telling him it’s OK. He looks up as_ …

…Jack stands then and walks past, stopping only briefly to say, “Get up. Come on.”

Ianto follows a few steps behind. _This is it_. He stops at the top of the stairs to the autopsy bay, staring down at the table. _Lisa_. She is covered with a sheet and a white towel has been placed around her head, hiding the hideous metal; only her soft, dark face is showing. Eyes closed, lips slightly apart, just like when she would sleep in his bed next to him. Her skin gleams in the harsh glow of the overhead lights, washed clean of the blood and dirt. Ianto glides down the steps, he feels as though he is floating, barely touching the ground, and comes to a stop by her side.

He reaches out a hand to the sheet covering her, but Jack grabs his arm and stops him.

“Don’t. Don’t look. I removed what I could, but some of it…” Jack drops his hand and backs away. “Say your goodbyes, Ianto. I’ll be in my office when you’re finished.”

“Do it here. I want to be with her.” He looks down at his shoes. “And it’s easier to get the blood off this floor.”

With a sigh, Jack crosses his arms once more. “OK. You want to do this now. Fine. Ianto Jones, you are suspended from active duty, without pay, for the next four weeks at which time you will report back to me and we will discuss the terms of your returning to work. Should you need more time…” he trails off, dropping his arms to his side and losing the authoritative voice. “We’ll work it out then. Alright?”

“That’s my punishment then? Being stuck down here for the rest of my life?”

The metal clang and sound of breaking glass startles Ianto, but not as much as Jack’s voice.

“Goddammit, Ianto! I’m not punishing you!”

He stares at the mess of broken glass on the floor, blood dripping onto the tiles and swirling toward the drain. His eyes follow the trail and back, up to Jack’s hand still squeezing around the shards of a beaker. Ianto whispers, “I betrayed you. Betrayed the team. I committed treason.”

Jack shrugs. “Yeah, well. Nobody’s perfect.” He turns to the sink, runs water over his hand, picking out bits of glass. “I nearly wiped out the entire human race once. By accident. We all make mistakes.” He whirls around, hearing the cracking of yet more glass, and finds Ianto crumpled to the floor kneeling in it. “Shit.” Jack hauls him to his feet, checking for injury.

Shards of glass have sliced through the knees of his trousers. All the while, Ianto continues to mumble through hitching sobs, “I could have got them all killed. My fault. She’s gone. I could hear them all screaming but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t stop it, Jack! I watched. All I could do was watch.”

Cradling Ianto into his side, Jack smoothes a hand over his hair. “It’s over. It’s alright. It’s over now.”

 

\- **In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on**.  
\- Robert Frost

 

“What is _he_ doing here?” Jack points an accusatory finger at Rhys next to Gwen’s work station as he descends the steps into the hub.

“ _He_ ,” Gwen turns to glare at him, “is helping with the cleanup round the city. I needed him here, Jack.”

“Next time it’s ‘Bring Your Husband to Work Day’ let me know, I…” Jack stops and looks around. “Hey, where is Ianto?”

“Right here.” Ianto enters through from the archives, carrying a brown, cardboard box. “I’ve just come from Owen’s flat. I catalogued that glowy whale-song thing that he kept, even though he wasn’t supposed to, and I also found something he left for us.” He sets the box down onto the nearest work station. It just happens to belong to Owen. He pulls out an envelope, opened, and hands it to Jack. “It’s sort of a last message in case of…” Ianto’s eyes flick to Rhys, momentarily surprised to see him. His face becomes neutral almost instantly. “In case of his permanent death.”

“A message?” Gwen steps forward, reaching for the envelope. “Like we found from Tosh?” Jack holds it away from her but looks to Ianto for explanation.

“Not exactly. No warm, fuzzy feelings from Dr. Harper. There’s a bit for you, Gwen. I’ll assume you know what it means.” He doesn’t, at all, give her a pointed look and she doesn’t blush or look away. Ianto continues, “He also called you a wanker, Jack, and he left me his stereo system.”

“What?” Jack practically rips out the three pages from the envelope. He hands Gwen her portion and goes on to read the rest. Jack’s eyebrows go up. “Hey, look at that. I get his car.”

“You mean you get the expired lease that ran out six months ago and all the back payments.” Ianto ignores his scowl and says, “Read the next page.”

Examining it closely for a moment, Jack clears his throat then reads aloud, “ _‘Look in the morgue, drawer,’_ ” he laughs, “ _‘double-O-seven. I wanted to be kept in there, you wankers, so if you haven’t found it already, why the hell didn’t you put me in there?’_ ”

“I told him I had dibs on that one. It’s not like you’ll be using it again, Jack.” Ianto meets Jack’s eye for a moment that stretches out into…

… _eternity in the darkness with nothing to hold onto. Ianto grips the coat in his fists, letting his tears run freely. Jack swore it couldn’t happen, but he’s gone, he’s cold. Jack’s fulfilled his purpose. There will be no more smiles, no bright blue eyes, no games, no touch. The others rattle around outside the office, making noise to fill the void. Tears drying on his face, Ianto hurriedly replaces Jack’s coat and straightens his suit and tie. He steps out into the hub and_ …

… turns his eyes away from Jack. “Fine, he called us all wankers, not just you. Are we going to have a look?”

In the morgue, Jack stops them all, pointing to Gwen and, behind her, Rhys. “I know we’re not exactly covert these days, but we do still have security and protocols. All civilians outside, please.” Neither of them moves. Jack throws his hands up. “Fine! I’m not taking responsibility if he gets blown up.”

“Jack.” Gwen drops Rhys’s hand and steps forward. “You don’t think Owen would-”

“Hey, I didn’t think Owen would do a lot of the things Owen did. Especially after he died. So, all of you, just stay back. OK?” He moves over to the wall and reaches for the handle, looking up sharply when Ianto steps up beside him.

With a shrug, Ianto tells him, “If Owen were to pull some sort of practical joke on us that would A) scare the shit out of us and make us scream like little girls or B) blow us all up and make us scream like little girls, he’d have done it while he could still watch.”

Shaking his head, Jack clenches his jaw and pulls the drawer out.

 

\- **Do not take life too seriously, you will never get out of it alive**.  
\- Elbert Hubbard

 

“Oi! Who’s a bloke have to fuck to get some food around here?” A man emerges from a dark corner behind them, throwing Ianto off for a moment. His hair is matted to his skull, but sticking up with sweat in places and his clothes are rumpled, the buttons of his shirt off-kilter.

“That would be Dr. Owen Harper.” Jack leans close to Ianto’s ear and whispers, “Pay no attention to him.”

“This our new servant, Jack?” Owen points to Ianto then claps his hands together. “So, pizza. No. Tosh, what was that stuff we had a few weeks ago after the whole flying fish fiasco?”

A woman, partially hidden behind her computer that Ianto hadn’t noticed before, rolls her chair forward and says, “Sushi. You insisted and then pronounced it disgusting.”

Owen opens his mouth, but Jack steps between them, one arm around Ianto’s shoulders, steering him away. “And this is Toshiko Sato, our technical wizard.” Jack sweeps a hand in her direction, huge grin on his face. “Some of the things this woman can do with a computer are absolutely _obscene_.” He leers at her and she slaps his arm.

“Jack!” The petite Japanese woman slips the glasses off her nose and smiles shyly at Ianto. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I think Owen means that little pub we went to after he turned green and ran to the loo.” Another woman emerges behind them. Her hair is tied back, messily, curls springing free and framing her narrow face. Her features are harsh, angular, but her eyes alight with mischief. “I don’t think they do take-away.”

Jack turns them around to face her. “You’ve already met Suzie.”

Ianto inclines his head, slightly, and his lips curl in what might be called a smile. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Start calling me _that_ ,” she says, pulling her hair free and shaking it out, “and I’ll have to take action.”

Jack leans in close again. “You have nothing to fear from her. She won’t bite.” He raises his voice, “Believe me, I’ve asked.”

“You’ll do well to steer clear of him,” Suzie tells Ianto, waving a fistful of wires at Jack. “He’s a bad influence.”

“Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind, Miss Costello.”

“Just Suzie.” She turns her attention back to Jack, immediately forgetting Ianto’s presence. “Speaking of fish, I think I’ve got an idea about a diet for our new pet.”

“And that was your doing, wasn’t it?” Owen glares at Ianto again. “As if we didn’t already have enough to deal with. Jack, why won’t you just put the thing down?”

“Because it’s not hurting anything. Isn’t it every little boy’s dream to have his own dinosaur?”

“Not unless I get to dissect it.” Owen crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. “I’m not cleaning up its shit, either. I’ll leave that to Jeeves.”

“Owen.” Jack’s voice takes on a sharp edge, the flirtatious grin gone from his face.

Ianto inserts himself between them, angling his body toward Jack. “Shall I order in lunch, sir? Any requests?”

Lips curling into a smirk, Jack says, “Sushi.” Then he walks away.

Turning to the other man, Ianto asks, “Fish and chips alright with you?” He starts to move away without waiting for a response, but turns back. “And don’t worry, Dr. Harper. Your services won’t be necessary.”

 

\- **Call for the Captain ashore and let me go home. I wanna go home. Why won’t you let me go home?**  
\- Sloop John B. Traditional Folk Song

 

“This is the _worst_ trip we’ve ever been on.” Owen slogs his way down the mountain, hunching his shoulders against the chill air.

“This is pretty much the only trip we’ve ever been on.” Toshiko tucks her hair behind her ear, struggling with her pack and her PDA. “We should have listened to Ianto. He was right. Jack never would have fallen for this.”

“How do you know Jack isn’t the one that set this up?”

“Oh, Owen.” Gwen turns back to face him. “Jack would never do that.” She stops at his skeptical face. “Yes, I’ve come to accept that he left us. But he wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do _that_ , especially. Apart from the fact that Jack would never hurt us and wouldn’t have wanted us to leave the rift unmonitored in the first place or have sent us off to the middle of nowhere,” she stops to catch her breath. Huffing, Gwen remembers her point. “That really wouldn’t be his style of practical joke. He would have… I dunno, unleashed some alien-” she holds up a hand, “but _harmless_ … thing in the hub that would make us all want to walk around naked or something.”

Toshiko snorts into her hand. “We should reach the helicopter soon.”

Owen scowls at them both and drops his pack, reaching for his water. Up ahead, Ianto has stopped to wait for them, listening idly and looking out toward the horizon. A moment passes in silence and, as one, they all shiver as something shifts. Looking up into one another’s eyes there is a space of seconds where they could speak, but no one does.

Grunting dismissively, Owen shoulders his pack once more and marches on. “If it wasn’t Jack, who else would do that? And how did they do it?”

“We were sent by the PM himself,” Gwen says as he passes her by. She waits for Toshiko to catch up and offers a hand.

“Yeah, since when do we listen to Whitehall anyway?” Owen grumbles, “Jack never did.”

“Thought you didn’t care what Jack did,” Ianto says quietly.

“Piss off. I’m going to get him back for this one.”

 

\- **When I say dance, you best dance, motherfucker**.  
\- The Violent Femmes

 

Gwen’s scream rings out, echoing off the cold tiles of the morgue. She clutches at Rhys, hauling him backward. Ianto pushes away from the wall after he’d thrown himself back, fully expecting the thing to explode. Jack just stands there and laughs.

The dummy ‘Owen’ rocks back and forth in the drawer on its spring, laughing. Literally. Ianto reaches forward and switches off the audio device that Owen must have stolen from the archives for this little prank. Fixing his tie, he says, “I stand corrected.”

Jack stops the dummy from rocking. “Gwen’s allowed to scream like a little girl. Although,” he turns to face them, “I think Rhys did a little bit, too.”

“Oi!”

Gwen places a hand on her husband’s shoulder, effectively pushing him to the back of the room, toward the doorway, before stepping up to the open morgue drawer. “What’s that?” She points to another envelope taped to the dummy.

They all stare at it until Jack rolls his eyes and plucks it off. He neatly tears it open and straightens the pages out. Brow wrinkling in consternation, Jack says, “It’s a list. He made a list of possible replacements for his position.”

\---

“What about Martha?” Gwen places both hands atop Jack’s desk and leans forward, right in his face. “She’s on the list, Jack. Owen obviously thought she was qualified and, for all we know, he might have even spoken with her about this before…”

“And I already told you my decision. Yes, she is fully qualified. Yes, she knows the team and works well here. I know all this, Gwen.”

“Then why-”

“Because I said so!” Jack exhales, deeply, and leans back in his chair. “Look, I’m not taking her off the list completely. Just putting her on hold. Alright?”

“I think we should all have a say in this.” Gwen leans back, folding her arms over her chest, and glares back at him.

“This is not a democracy. My word is final.”

Behind them, Ianto clears his throat and enters the office. He hands a slip of paper to Gwen. “You’ve a message from the new DCI. He only wants to speak with you. Rhys is waiting for you outside.”

Gwen takes the note from him, but her eyes stay on Jack. “We need to discuss this. _All_ of us. It doesn’t only affect you.” With that, she marches out of the office.

Only when they hear the door roll shut, sealing them off, does Ianto approach Jack’s desk. Jack cuts him off before he even opens his mouth. “Don’t start.” He looks up to see Ianto standing with his hands clasped behind him, eyes down. “Sorry.” Jack reaches a hand out, brushing against Ianto’s sleeve.

Shrugging and moving forward to perch on the corner of the desk, Ianto says, “You’re stressed. What can I do to help?”

“Take me away to a tropical island and make me forget all about Torchwood and alien threats and the city imploding and having to deal with… this.” He waves the sheaf of carefully stapled papers at Ianto and turns back to his computer. “Owen was really detailed in his reports here. I’m shocked.” He turns to Ianto with a questioning look. “Did you help him with this?”

“No. I would have if he’d asked, but he didn’t say anything about it to me.” Ianto looks down and lightly clears his throat. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a single sheet of paper folded into thirds. Handing it over to Jack, Ianto says, “This was also with Owen’s letter. It’s for Tosh. I didn’t read it, wasn’t sure how Gwen would react, but… I thought you…” his voice trails off, but he doesn’t look away.

Jack stares at the folded paper for a long moment. He opens his top desk drawer and slips the note inside. Looking up into Ianto’s eyes, he says, “It wasn’t meant for us. We can put it with her later.”

Ianto nods. Tapping the list, he asks, “Who’s first up?”

Straightening his shoulders, Jack brings up the profile on his monitor. “Erin Kelly. She looks to be the best of the lot. Most experience, not new to alien technology, working for UNIT for the last six years. Late thirties.” He glances up at the curious look and takes Ianto’s hand in his own. “You’re too young to be here. They were both far too young.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ve lost a lot of people. All the years, I’ve watched as teams disintegrated, fell one by one or all at once, but it was never… I brought them in, I found them and… Suzie, Toshiko, Owen. They were _mine_.”

“Jack. You may have recruited them, but they _chose_ to stay. Even after her contract was up, Tosh wanted to stay. She loved it. All of it. They all did. You know that. Anyone on that list would be the same.” Ianto leans forward and brushes the hair off Jack’s forehead. “We all came for different reasons, but we stay because we want to be here.”

 

\- **But reason has no power against feeling, and feeling older than history is no light matter**.  
\- Charlotte Perkins Gilman

 

Tie straight. Trousers pressed. Ianto takes two deep breaths. He walks briskly, like he belongs, staring straight ahead at the water tower. Captain Harkness had said to meet him there. The only instructions he’d received after fleeing that warehouse the night before. Strange place to meet, out in the open like this, with all these people milling about. At least, if he’s changed his mind, he won’t be likely to try and _‘deal with’_ Ianto right here. Or would he?

Tie straight? Ianto adjusts it again. His father always said, _‘A man in a well tailored suit is a man to be taken seriously.’_ Glancing around, Ianto stops in front of the water tower, juggling the thermos he’d thought to bring this time. He’s exactly on time. The message left for him said six sharp. If the tales are true, the Captain’s tardiness should come as no surprise. Appearing out of thin air, however…

Ianto does not flinch. He takes a tiny, only mildly stumbled step backward as the Captain steps down off the curb next to him.

“Right on time, Mr. Jones.”

“I’m nothing if not punctual, sir.”

Captain Harkness laughs openly. “We’ll see about that. Hop on.” He steps back up onto the curb and almost, but not quite, disappears again. Ianto squints. He can still see the dark material of that coat, but a part of him wants to look away, to pretend it’s not there. The Captain’s voice calls his attention back. “That’s the perception filter. We just call it the invisible lift.”

Ianto nods and steps up next to the Captain. “Invisible lift. In front of the water tower?” he asks, and the other man shrugs. “Well, Torchwood did always like its phallic symbols.” The loud laughter in his ear distracts him from the sudden movement under his feet. Nothing quite prepares him for his very first view of the hub below.

After his brief tour of the main hub: “Never touch Suzie’s work station,” Jack says as he waves to the woman across the room, bent over her desk. She glances up, registering the new person, and quickly goes back to her work. “Seriously, for your own safety.” Ianto nods, idly wondering what she could be working on. He almost asks, but the Captain preempts him with, “The others will be in later.”

A quick look in, what Ianto would hesitate to call, the kitchen, he offers some coffee, but can’t find any clean mugs. The Captain then dumps him upstairs in the little tourist office that hasn’t been opened or restocked in, quite possibly, the last six years judging by the out of date brochures and the thick layer of dust on every surface. Ianto is told that this will be his responsibility and that they haven’t had anyone up here in a while, so he’ll have his work cut out for him.

A few hours later, covered in dust and cobwebs from tidying up, he is summoned downstairs to meet the team and order in their lunch. He presents the Captain with a list of items he will need to procure for the office upstairs, including a coffee machine. Harkness agrees readily to all of it before dragging Ianto down to the vaults.

“So, I’ll be zookeeper, as well?” Watching the weevil weave back and forth, Ianto wonders if that’s how they came up with the name. And who thought it up, come to think of that? He thinks Captain Harkness probably had a hand in it.

There’s a loud laugh and a large hand claps Ianto on the shoulder. “Come on, Ianto. I bet you grew up on some nice farm somewhere, surrounded by sheep and goats and chickens.”

“No, sir. I grew up right here in Cardiff. City boy, through and through.”

“Even better. You’ll know your way around here then.”

“Yes, sir. Though I’ve not been back here for the last few years.” Ianto stares straight ahead, refusing to look at the Captain though he can feel those piecing eyes on him, watching, waiting, searching. He keeps his breathing even as…

… _the machines beep, beep, beep, the chest rising and falling in forced, mechanical rhythm. The doctor just stands there with his clipboard and his cold instruments as the nurse unhooks the ventilator. Ianto thinks he feels the hand in his squeeze, but it’s just his imagination. Those hands, withered by time and sickness, he remembers the way they would move. Precise and steady. Never faltering. Confident, dependable and sure in their work. Ianto examines the hands and doesn’t look up when the doctor pronounces time of death. Silent tears slide from his eyes, but he never_ …

… looks over to the Captain. “What about you, sir? Did you grow up around animals?”

There’s a brief, minuscule pause before he answers. “You could say that.”

“In the…” Ianto forces a small smile. “51st century, was it?”

Jack grins, raising one eyebrow. “Yeah.” He claps his hands together. “So, how ‘bout it? Up for a little pterodactyl quality time?”

Ianto ignores the twinkle in those blue eyes and looks back to the other inhabitants of the cells. Remembers to think of this man as ‘Captain.’ He is not a friend. He can’t be. “Thought you wanted to take care of it yourself, sir.”

“Yeah. I think maybe not. Suzie said she wanted to work out some sort of training. Besides, I think she likes you better.”

“Suzie?”

“The pterodactyl.”

“She?”

“Hormones.” The Captain turns and heads back toward the door and the stairs leading up. “Definitely female.”

Ianto follows behind, shaking his head. “I’m not even going to ask what that possibly means.”

 

\- **Calculation is of the head; impulse is of the heart; and both are good in their way**.  
\- Henry Giles

 

It’s a Tuesday when Ianto Jones’s life begins. The day itself is ordinary, as every day has been for the last few years. He wakes up early. He goes to work at whichever lousy, low-paying job he happens to have at the time. He pulls pints or makes coffee for hundreds of Londoners. Then he takes a stroll through the shabby park near his shabby flat to the public library. He spends two hours every evening devouring everything he can get his hands on. He works his way through history, local and international; politics; music; fiction; biography; government; absorbing it all and never lingering in one area too long.

But it’s on _this_ Tuesday that he finds it. And that’s the day he meets _her_.

He wakes up on his sofa in his darkened, tiny flat and realizes he’s late for work. As he’s rushing to get washed and dressed, he stops to find several messages on his answer-phone all leading to the fact that he’s been fired from his crappy job. And two days have gone by that he has no recollection of.

Out on his search for new employment, his missing time and the image of a dark, beautiful woman haunt his mind. He discovers that his local library has been closed down for renovations. One side of the building seems to be partially demolished already and Ianto doesn’t recall it looking like that the other day when…

… _he throws himself against the wall as flames roar past. Books caught in the path crackle and burn. There are screams and the overhead sprinklers soak his clothes. A warm, slender body is pressed up against his. He turns his head and her dark eyes are staring right into him. “That’s…” he starts, but she blocks his view and tells him, “An alien.” Ianto looks past her to see the other people running, the burning books, men in black, armored suits and the… thing. “That’s not what I was going to say,” he breathes deeply, giving her a shaky smile. She smiles right back and says, “Nice to meet you. I’m_ …

… “Lisa!” He finds her again near Canary Wharf, waiting for a bus.

“Mr. Jones.” Her eyes light up, but her face remains impassive. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

He half laughs. “Nowhere else to go, thanks to you.”

It only takes a week to get him a low-level job with the Torchwood Institute. But they get to see each other almost every day. Within six months he is moved up to the level of Junior Researcher and his ability to memorize and identify alien texts is put to good use.

Lisa visits him in his dinky basement cubicle. “You’re becoming more of a workaholic than me, you know.”

“Not possible.” He grins up at her from the files he’s reading. “You’re _always_ out in the field _retrieving_ things. I never get to see you.”

“Well, I’m here now.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on his desk. “And you’re going to ignore me for paperwork, aren’t you?”

“Some of these old files are fascinating. Have you read much about the Cardiff branch?” She shakes her head at him. “Some of the things they’ve seen are just… unbelievable. And this guy, the leader he’s…” Ianto looks up and Lisa is biting the indulgent smile on her lips. Putting his hands up, he laughs. “OK. I’m done. We’re going to lunch?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs, taking his hand. “We could do lunch or… you know, go have sex in a supply closet somewhere.”

Ianto Jones believes he’d follow her anywhere.

 

\- **Instead of saying that man is the creature of circumstance, it would be nearer the mark to say that man is the architect of circumstance**.  
\- Thomas Carlyle

 

“Ah, two of my most favorite things: Coffee and a gorgeous Welshman in a suit.”

Ianto very deliberately sets the cup down on the desk and steps back. He has a smirk on his face. “Enjoy your _coffee_ , sir.”

“Always.” Jack inhales the aroma and takes a drink. He looks back up into Ianto’s eyes. “You’re really taking this whole butler thing a little too seriously.”

“It’s kind of fun. I’m like Alfred to your Batman. Everyone knows he was the brains of the operation.”

“Hmm. He was a little… elderly.” Jack grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be Robin?”

Hands clasped behind his back, Ianto stands perfectly erect. “Dr. Harper can be your Boy Wonder. He’ll fit the tights.”

“But he wouldn’t fill them out half as well.” Jack laughs as Ianto rolls his eyes. “Hey, as long as I don’t have to wear the rubber suit. It must chafe.” He looks up, noticing Ianto lingering. “Was there something else?”

“Um, yes, sir. I was… in the archives earlier, sorting through the artifact logs and I thought I should probably check that everything was where it should be… Except…” he trails off, bit of a lift in his voice at the end.

“You don’t have the codes. Right.” Jack rubs a hand over his chin. “How disorganized is the filing?”

“Very.”

“Well, it won’t do much good to reorganize the filing system if it doesn’t match up with the storage. Later tonight we can start to go through it. You know, if there’s nothing more pressing.”

Ianto blinks, just once. He then looks up into the Captain’s eyes and smiles. “That sounds like a good idea, sir.” He remains standing just in front of Jack’s desk.

With a grin, Jack leans forward, resting on his elbows. “Anything else you need, Ianto?”

“While I was down there I also… noted that there are several rooms on sub-level twelve-”

“What were you doing down there? Did you get lost?”

“No, sir. I was… just sort of wandering. Trying to get an idea of…” Ianto stutters to a stop, eyes blinking rapidly, breath escaping in short puffs. He swallows and, in a low voice, says, “I was trapped. Lockdown was triggered and I was trapped in the archives. I couldn’t get out, it’s probably what saved my life, but all I wanted was to get out. I could hear it… hear the screaming and the banging. The monitors were still working most of the time. I watched it all and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” His voice cuts out on him. Bringing his eyes up from the floor to Jack’s face, Ianto says, “I like to know where my exits are, sir. I noticed that most of that level has fallen to disrepair. I thought it might be best if we sealed it off until repairs could be done. Never know what might slip in unnoticed.”

Jack sits back, staring at him intently. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll get you the codes for the archives and the sub-basement. You can take care of that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

\---

“Suzie! I’m not hearing good news,” Jack says into his earpiece as he races over to one of the monitors. “Tosh, any luck?”

“I’m trying, Jack. It would help if I knew what I was looking for.” She types furiously at her computer without looking away.

Tapping his ear again, Jack asks, “Owen, how bad is it out there?”

“ _On a scale of one to ten? We’re completely fucked_.”

“Damn. Alright. I’m coming out there to get you. Just… be there. Tosh, keep at it. I’m-”

“Sir?” Ianto appears quickly out of the shadows leading to the basements, having waited for just the right moment. He hands Jack a small box and a little red book. “I believe this will help. I’m not sure if it is exactly the same, but there was an incident similar to this. I found it misfiled just last week. This,” he holds up a file in his hand, “might help Toshiko with the translation.”

That wide, surprised smile slowly appears on Jack’s face. “Ianto Jones. However did we manage without you?”

“I can’t imagine, sir.”

 

\- **To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you**.  
\- Lewis B. Smedes

 

Wrapping his hands around the thermos to keep them warm, Ianto sits straight as an arrow on the cold bench. The sun is shining high in the sky, his shadow a dark puddle at his feet, but the air is cool. The unseasonable cold spell suits his mood. He shifts, tugging his coat more securely around him, and, without looking, says, “You don’t have to watch me every second, sir.”

Jack takes his cue and steps forward. “I’m just out for a walk.”

“So, that wasn’t you yesterday hiding behind the cucumbers when I went to the shops? Or last week, I could have sworn I saw a familiar coat turn the corner just as I was stepping out of my flat.”

“I like to walk around a lot.” Jack waits, only for a second, before sitting on the bench next to Ianto. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Yes, but that was true. The last time, anyway. And it’s lucky for you I was there. Or maybe not,” he adds, remembering what had happened. It might have been the outcome anyway, but somehow it feels like that was his fault, as well. “What will happen to that boy’s family? Will they know that their son is never coming back?”

Jack sighs next to him. He hadn’t asked Ianto to take care of the bodies after… the Cyberman had killed them. He refused to tell Ianto where they were in the morgue. But he should tell the truth about this. “He was a runaway. The parents have been looking for him for the last four months.” He glances over at Ianto. “They’ll get closure.”

With a nod, Ianto screws the top off the thermos, letting the aroma of hot coffee escape. He can almost hear Jack moan next to him, but still doesn’t look over, his gaze remaining focused ahead. “See that house?” He points across the street. “I grew up there. Nice family lives there now. Mam, dad, kids, dog. They’ve no idea…” Pouring some coffee out into the lid, he hands it to Jack, finally looking him in the eye. “You have nothing to worry about, sir. I have no more secrets. There’s nothing left to hide. There’s nothing left,” he finishes, nearly inaudibly.

Jack accepts the coffee, but he wraps his other hand around Ianto’s fingers. “That’s exactly why I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Glancing between their touching hands and Jack’s blue eyes, Ianto bites his lip. “You… with us,” he stumbles over the words, his breath coming too rapidly. “It wasn’t part of it. That was never supposed to happen.” He shakes his head, breaking eye contact. Quietly, feeling his face redden, he says, “But you’re… you.”

Jack takes his hand away, turning his body to stare straight ahead. “You did a pretty half-assed job of deleting the CCTV footage. That’s not like you. You’re always very thorough, even Tosh can’t tell the difference.” He stops, looks back at Ianto still staring at his feet. “But not this time. You wanted to get caught.”

At that, Ianto looks up, meeting his eyes. “There were times… when I almost told you. Sometimes, I wanted to so badly. When it became too much and I just wished someone could fix it. I almost gave up, before you finally hired me, I was ready to throw it in and admit I couldn’t do it. But then I _had_ to. I had to, Jack, I…” his voice trembles and tears prick at his eyes, but he keeps watching Jack’s face for any sign. He can’t…

… _turn back, the words echoing in his mind, ‘Like the suit, by the way.’ Acknowledging Jack with the barest nod of his head, the sting of tears fills Ianto’s eyes. He holds his breath until he’s out of the warehouse and back on the street. He’s gotten his ‘in.’ He can’t stop now. There’s no going_ …

… back to staring straight ahead, Ianto’s dry, hoarse voice rasps, “I won’t apologize for trying to save her.”

“I’d lose all respect for you if you did.”

Ianto falters, not expecting that. He goes on, “But I am sorry for what I had to do. And for what happened to…” he glances up at Jack again. “To everyone.”

Jack nods, slowly, maintaining eye contact. “I know.”

“Can I please come back to work now? I can’t stand this… waiting. Doing nothing. Just let me be useful. Anything.”

“I meant what I said the other morning.” Ianto looks at him, confused. “Which you obviously don’t remember.” Jack turns his body fully to face Ianto. “I came to check on you? Make sure you hadn’t been hurt? Not ringing a…”

… _bell sounds again. Ianto stumbles to the door, eyelids heavy, only half open. He’s neither expecting nor surprised to see Jack standing there. He blocks the view, leaning on the doorframe, as Jack peers around him into the tiny room. Ianto tries to hold himself up, imposing, to intimidate Jack from entering, but every inch of him hurts and it becomes too much. He droops, moving to the side to let Jack enter. He has no time or energy to feel embarrassed about the state of his flat. Staggering to the only chair in the room, he feels Jack’s hand on his elbow to steady him and blue eyes staring intently. Ianto looks up and lets his_ …

…breath out in a soft sigh. “Yes. I remember now.”

“The gist was, you’re welcome to come back. If that’s what you want. But you’re going to come back as a full member of the team. That means training and going out into the field more.” Jack sits back, one elbow raised up onto the back of the bench. “Eventually.”

Nodding his head, Ianto bites his lip. “Yeah. Alright. When?”

Hunching his shoulders into his coat, Jack says, “I think the others might need another day or so. In the meantime, I have something to show you.” Ianto turns his head, sharply, uncertain. Jack stands and holds a hand out to him. “Come on. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Ianto ignores the hand, but stands next to him. “That would truly be a shame, sir.”

On the long drive Ianto doesn’t ask where they are going. He barely pays attention to the scenery blurring past the windows. It’s not until they stop and Jack gets out, expecting him to follow, that Ianto asks, “Where are we?”

“You don’t recognize it?” Jack, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat, steps up beside him. “You once told me you’d had the best time of your life here.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember that conversation.” Ianto stares out at the water, sand trickling over his shoes. Lisa had surprised him one day. She’d called them both off work and bundled him into her tiny car. The entire drive she’d refused to say where they were going. “We camped, illegally, right on the beach. There was…” He moves off, down the beach, searching. It was so long ago. A lifetime, it feels. Up ahead, he sees it and takes off at a run. 

He doesn’t need to check that Jack is still with him. “Here.” Ianto stops just short of the lighthouse. “We picnicked here. She’d tried to teach me to swim and the water was bloody freezing. The tent she’d packed had a hole in it and we couldn’t light a fire and it was just so cold.” He laughs, a little, smiling as the tears slip from his eyes. “We spent the whole day arguing and she cried because I’d ruined her surprise. I ended up taking the car, buying a new tent and some take-away and bringing it back to her. We made love under the stars.” He laughs again, louder, fuller. “It was messy and uncomfortable and absolutely amazing.”

Jack steps up, right next to him, and whispers in his ear, “Those are strong, intense emotions. Focus on that, Ianto.” Something is placed gently in his hand, rounded and metal. “Remember her as she was.”

When Jack steps away, Ianto looks down at the ‘Ghost Machine’ as it lights up. He presses his thumbs over the button and the world whirls around him. He sees himself, wet and covered in sand, stomping away and Lisa… Oh God, _Lisa_. She’s wearing her old, worn jeans and that blue top that he used to love, the one that clings to every part of her. She’s watching him walk away and Ianto can feel her heart flutter and her insides ache.

Then it’s dusk and he’s back. Her whole being lights up inside and he can feel it and know just what this is. It was the same way he’d felt every time he saw her. Now they are laughing together and he’s chasing her with a pair of chopsticks, pretending to be an alien. Later still, when the sun has sunk into the horizon, they’re dancing beneath a canopy of stars. He brushes a finger across her cheek and she laughs and that was the moment she knew that she loved him.

Ianto falls to his knees as the device falls from his hands. He can’t see through the tears and his chest feels ready to explode. “Jack?”

“I’m still here.”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

\- **To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved**.  
\- George MacDonald

 

Ianto looks up from his desk as the hidden door opens and the woman storms past in a whirl of dark gray and flowery perfume. She doesn’t spare him a single glance. The bell above the door to the Tourist Office jangles as it closes behind her.

Jack marches in after her, finger pointing toward the door. “Make sure that woman never sets foot in this office again. No, better yet. Make sure she is banned from Cardiff.” He turns to Ianto. “Can we make that possible?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He nods as Jack turns right around to head back downstairs. Taking out the list, Ianto crosses off Dr. Kelly’s name. It had taken a week to get Jack to arrange an interview and another week to get Dr. Kelly to agree to it. Ianto supposes he should get started on the next applicant. Locking up the office, he follows Jack down into the hub, wincing when he hears the argument that’s already kicked off.

Gwen is trailing Jack to his office, speaking loudly. “No one will ever have _enough_ experience, Jack. You brought me in; what experience did I have?”

“Really not helping your case, Gwen,” Jack calls back over his shoulder.

“Better make some coffee,” Ianto mutters to himself, veering off to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, when Ianto enters the office, tray in hand, Gwen is in full-swing. “And what was wrong with her? She was most qualified, you said so yourself. You didn’t even ask our opinion before booting her out.”

Jack tips his chair back and plonks his feet up on the desk. “She was cocky and I made my decision. We don’t need someone like that here.”

Ianto frowns at Jack’s muddy boots and places his coffee mug just out of reach, forcing him to move. He takes his own seat and sips from his own mug. Watching.

Gwen ignores the coffee set in front of her. She glares at Jack. “ _You_ made a decision? You?” When she gets no reaction, she leans back and softens her voice. “We’re all we have left, Jack, and you’re still shutting me out. Both of us.” She flicks her eyes to Ianto, maybe expecting support. “We’ve all agreed that Martha-”

“And I’ve already told you-”

“You’ve got to stop keeping secrets from us, Jack!” Gwen slams her hands down on the desk.

Jack smirks, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not keeping secrets. I think, actually, it’s no secret at all that I do not want Martha Jones in Cardiff on a permanent basis. I’ve stated this clearly and quite eloquently, I might add. No secret there.”

“But you won’t tell us why,” Gwen says, softly. “Or is it just me?”

Jack glances over at Ianto, a split-second, and back to Gwen. “I have my reasons, Gwen. And they have nothing to do with you. Or Ianto. Or Torchwood. They are my own personal reasons. I’ve made a lot of concessions for your personal reasons, haven’t I?”

She rises to her full height, biting her lip, eyes glistening. Her voice shakes, “My personal life has not put us all in danger, Jack. Your secrets have. Tosh and Owen are dead, because you wouldn’t tell us anything!”

Ianto stands, quietly placing his mug aside. “Gwen. That’s enough.”

She rounds on him. “Don’t you dare take his side!”

“We’re all on the same side.” Ianto steps between them.

“How many times?” she asks, voice catching in her throat. “How many times were we left guessing when a straight answer from him could have saved us all time and worry?” Her wide, brown eyes shine in the dim light, and Ianto can’t help but agree with her. He’ll always be on Jack’s side, but so much could have been avoided if only Jack had trusted them more. He finds himself…

… _staring at the empty spot where that jar had sat for so long. Ianto takes a deep breath. He turns to face the remainder of Captain Jack Harkness’s team and says, “He left. He’s not coming back.” Walking past, ignoring Toshiko’s shocked expression and Gwen’s frantic questions, he doesn’t stop when Owen reaches out and tries to pull him back, demanding an explanation. He could tell them what he knows, but it wouldn’t do them any good. It wouldn’t ease their minds; it wouldn’t actually explain anything, at all. Jack is gone; he’s not coming back and the world keeps_ …

… turning to Jack. “She has a point.” He forestalls Jack’s interruption by raising a hand. “We don’t need to know your reasons for keeping Dr. Jones out.” He puts a gentle hand on Gwen’s arm. “But you do need to trust us, Jack. We can’t follow blindly anymore. It worked that way in the past, but everyone is different now. You need to accept that. You have to try.”

“That’s all I’m asking, Jack.” Gwen’s voice is soft, imploring. “We need to be a team.”

Jack glances back and forth between them. Quietly, he rises to his feet and walks past them out of the office.

 

\- **She takes just like a woman… She makes love just like a woman… and she aches just like a woman. But she breaks just like a little girl**.  
\- Bob Dylan, Just Like a Woman

 

Ianto sits back, arms crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead. The desk provides a decent buffer between them. Jack continues to glare but Ianto doesn’t budge or look away. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out it was you?”

After a moment, exasperated, Ianto finally rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d find out. You’re not stupid. Arrogant and condescending at times, but not stupid.”

“I specifically told you I didn’t want Gwen involved in this,” Jack hisses. “What did you think this would achieve? The poor mother has been traumatized. Thankfully, Jonah doesn’t seem to remember the visit at all. Everything is still unreal to him. How would he feel if he knew his own mother probably doesn’t want to come see him anymore?”

He flinches at that and Jack opens his mouth, but Ianto cuts him off, “I didn’t actually think you’d allow her to take the mother there.”

Anger visibly returning, Jack shoots out of his seat to pace the office. “And what was I supposed to do? How was I to stop her?”

“Did you never think that maybe if you, oh I don’t know, sat Gwen down and actually _explained_ things to her, this could all be avoided?”

“Why didn’t you? Instead of going behind my back?”

“Because it’s your job, Jack!” Ianto runs his hand over his hair, regaining his composure. “She’s not a child and she deserved the truth. I will stand by that and bear the consequences of my actions.” He looks up into Jack’s eyes. “You didn’t actually believe she’d stop looking, did you? Have you met Gwen?”

Jack turns away, but Ianto catches the tiny smile playing on his lips. When he turns back, it is gone. “I didn’t want to put her through that. It wasn’t necessary.”

“You left, Jack,” Ianto says, as softly as he can. “You left and she was here. She was broken and scared, but she was here. She kept us all going.” Ianto stands and moves closer, reaching out but unsure if he’s welcome. Gently, he touches Jack’s shoulder. “You have this need to protect her - and I get that, you know I do - but she doesn’t need it anymore, Jack. You trusted me when you had every reason not to. She’s proven she can handle herself. She still needs your guidance, but you can’t keep holding her back. You have to let her stand on her own two feet.”

Jack sags and lays his head on Ianto’s shoulder. “It was awful. I never wanted her… any of them to know that kind of pain.”

“I know.” Ianto brings his arms up around Jack and pulls him closer. He whispers, “If you don’t trust her, she’ll never learn to trust you.”

“Ret-con.”

“What?” Ianto pulls back, unsure he heard right.

“We can offer it to her. Give her a choice to forget.”

“Gwen-”

“No, the mother. Nikki.” Jack’s eyes shimmer; he looks like a lost little boy. “Gwen would be insulted and never accept it. She already has issues with the amnesia thing. We don’t need that and frankly I’m getting sick of being slapped around.”

Suppressing a laugh, because that would be highly inappropriate, Ianto nods his agreement. “If we go tonight we’ll have more success of erasing the whole visit without any complications.” He steps back and puts a hand on Jack’s chest, looking him right in the eye. “But she gets a choice?”

“Yes. Someone should.”

Later, when they’ve returned from _not_ ret-conning Nikki Bevan, they curl up together on Jack’s bed. He hadn’t been surprised by Nikki’s refusal and he tells Ianto this. “It’s why I knew we should give her a choice. She needed to choose that knowledge.”

Jack’s arms are wound around him, his head tucked up under Ianto’s chin. He strokes Jack’s back and runs fingers through his hair. “You always say there are good places out there. Wonderful, beautiful places.” He feels Jack nod his head, hair tickling his bare skin. Ianto speaks quietly in the dark, “Suzie used to say that the rift was a magnet for the shit of the universe. Do you think one will ever come back unscathed? Gone to one of those amazing places you’ve told me about?”

“I don’t know.” Jack’s voice is small and soft. “Maybe the ones that find a better place manage to stay there.”

 

\- **If you ever get close to a human and human behavior, be ready to get confused**.  
\- Bjork, Human Behavior

 

The grainy image flickers before them on the monitor. Gwen leans forward, peering at the screen. Ianto stands behind her. Jack’s been down there in the morgue for the last twenty minutes. Ianto’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. It’s hard to make out whether Jack is speaking or not. He’s sitting with his back to the wall and his head on his knees. Ianto’s never seen Jack quite like this before. Judging by the look on her face, he’s sure Gwen hasn’t, either.

Reaching past Gwen, Ianto closes the CCTV window on Jack’s monitor. She looks up at him and he says, “We weren’t intentionally keeping you out of the loop, you know. He’s only trying to protect you.”

Her wide eyes flick back to the blank screen. She nods. “I understand that now. If he doesn’t want Martha here then… He has a reason.”

“I would have told you. If there had been any incidents while Jack was gone, I would have told you everything. He knows that.” Ianto idly shuffles the papers on the desk and gathers up the half-empty mugs of cold coffee. He stops and looks back at her. “I know he doesn’t really give us a lot to go on, but you have to start trusting him, Gwen.”

“I do. I remember what you said after…

… _Flat Holm? How could you not have told me?” Gwen pleads and Ianto can’t really answer her. Instead he says, “You’re still angry with him. For leaving.” She starts to interrupt, but Ianto says, “You are. I thought you’d both worked it out after Rhys got shot, but you haven’t Gwen. Your anger is still simmering beneath the surface and you don’t trust him anymore.” She yells, “He never told us a bloody thing! Why aren’t you angry with him?” and Ianto smiles, and says the only thing that matters, “He came back.” Biting her lip, Gwen_ …

…sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “How does he expect us to help him if he won’t let us in?”

Ianto picks up the tray, careful not to tip it, and walks to the door. “All we can do is be here, Gwen. And wait for him to come to us.”

 

\- **Few things help an individual more than to place responsibility upon him and to let him know that you trust him**.  
\- Booker T. Washington

 

“You awake over there?” Jack asks, as he climbs back into the SUV.

Ianto turns his head and opens his eyes. “Is Tosh alright?” he asks, coughing, throat dry.

“She said she’s fine. How are you feeling?” Jack’s eyes shine in the unnatural glow of the streetlights filtering through the tinted windows.

“My… hair hurts.” Ianto closes his eyes against the light, but the images in his mind are worse.

“Yeah, you’ve got a pretty big bump on the head there. Owen says you’re lucky you don’t have concussion or any broken bones.” Jack starts the ignition and puts the vehicle in gear.

“Lucky. Yep, that sums up Ianto Jones in one word.”

Foot on the brake, Jack turns to face Ianto again. “But really. You’re OK and you got out alive.” Pulling away from the curb outside Toshiko’s flat, he mutters, “No thanks to me.”

Looking over, Ianto tries lifting one eyebrow, but that hurts more than he could describe. “Fishing for compliments, sir?”

“No.” Jack’s eyes remain focused straight ahead. “I’m serious. I should have come after you sooner or never sent the two of you out on your own to begin with, but…”

“But you assumed we could handle ourselves,” he finishes for Jack. Sighing as he lays his head back against the seat, Ianto says quietly, “I’m sorry I let you down, sir.”

“Ianto.” Jack pulls the car over and stops abruptly. He shuts the engine off and turns his whole body sideways. “You didn’t let anybody down.”

“Jack, I was completely bloody useless.”

“Is everyone still alive? Did we bring down the bad guys?” He waits, as if actually expecting an answer, but just as Ianto thinks to reply, Jack continues, “Then no one has been let down. Tosh told me what happened. Said you were trapped in a cellar and that you panicked a bit.”

“Panicked?” Ianto huffs, it’s almost a laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Hey. Considering some of the things you’ve been through, that is completely understandable. We’ve all been overwhelmed in the field, especially our first time out.”

Ianto closes his eyes again, turns his face away to press against the cold glass of the window. “I bet you’ve never been captured by people that wanted to eat you.”

Behind him, Jack chuckles. “I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘people.’ ”

Turning sharply, Ianto winces at the movement, but glares at Jack. “You know, sometimes I think half the things that come out of your mouth are complete and utter bollocks and the other half are too ludicrous not to be true.”

“Sounds about right,” Jack laughs. He sits back and rests his hands on the wheel. “Look. You got your head together quickly enough to give Toshiko a chance to escape. When you were trapped in an impossible situation you did your best to protect your teammate.” Jack’s mouth is set into a grim line and his eyes look so open. “No sacrificing yourself like that again, you hear me?”

Nodding, Ianto swallows thickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, time to get you home.” The engine roars to life and Jack peels out onto the road. “Where’s the new-” His mobile beeps in the console between them.

“Is that the alarm for the hub?” Ianto reaches for it and lifts it to his face, squinting at the screen. “What’s this code? SP-RT362.”

“That’s…” Jack glances sideways at him, hands guiding the steering wheel. “I’ll drop you off quick. I can take care of it myself.”

“I could help. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight anyway.” Ianto tilts his head to one side, trying to see Jack’s face. “I’d rather be kept busy.”

“You know, any other time and I wouldn’t pass up an opening like that.” Jack sighs. “OK. You can come with me on this one. But, Ianto.” Jack fixes him with a look. “This might get… difficult.”

\---

“When most people need a breath of fresh air,” Ianto says, peering over the edge of the roof, “they go for a walk round the bay.”

Jack looks back, smirking. “You’re not afraid of heights are you, Ianto?”

“Not that I’m aware of, sir. Although I might develop a phobia if you get any closer to the edge.” Ianto stands back, hands in his pockets, and watches the sun rise over Cardiff.

Jack stands a few feet in front of him, coat flapping in the breeze, a dark silhouette against the early morning sky. “You alright?”

“I think I’m a bit numb, to be honest. It’s not bad, actually. I rather prefer it over the alternative.” The wind kicks up around them. “Jack, please come away from the edge. I’ve had enough over the last couple days; I don’t need to see you splatter onto the pavement.”

Jack takes a few seconds to let the wind whip around him then steps back, level with Ianto. “You understand that it’s all we can do for them, right?”

“I don’t see any other options, if that’s what you mean.” Ianto hunches his shoulders, sort of a shrug.

“It’s not enough, I know that. It will never be enough, but I…”

“I know, Jack.”

“I don’t have to tell you-”

“Of course not. If the others needed to know, you’d inform them. I understand.”

“Good.” Jack shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “Gwen will probably try to corner you when everyone comes back into work.”

Ianto glances over, wondering if this has to do with Flat Holm, if Gwen knows. But no. Jack seems to have moved away from that subject. In a light tone, Ianto asks, “Should I be scared?”

“She’ll want to ask you about what happened in Brynblaidd. About those… people.”

Cringing, Ianto tastes bile in the back of his throat. The overpowering stench of blood lingers on him and he can’t believe it was only yesterday. From one horror to the next. First, being trapped and nearly killed for food and then seeing all those people… _survivors of the rift_. He wonders why Jack had decided to tell him _now_. But then he thinks he knows. Numb. After everything, he’d handled it. Jack had known he could handle it. “I can just write up the report for her.”

Jack shakes his head. “I think it’s driving her mad not knowing how people could do something like that.”

“Ah. Perhaps she needs a refresher course in World History.” He glances over at Jack and thinks he sees a smile. “I’ll just tell her they wanted to eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Think that’ll make her stop trying to give me a hug every time she sees me? I’m not really the touchy-feely sort. And yes, I realize the implications of saying such things around you.”

Jack lets out a full, loud laugh and claps Ianto on the back, eliciting a short cry of pain. “Oh, sorry!” Jack hovers behind him. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You need to get cleaned up and get some sleep.” Ianto starts to protest, but Jack cuts him off. “Get some _rest_ , then. You’ve been up for almost forty-eight hours.”

“For a few of those hours I _was_ knocked unconscious.”

“Everyone has the next two days off. You’re going to rest. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Those knots in his stomach twist just a bit tighter. Turning to face Jack, Ianto says, softly, “I’d rather just stay here.”

Slowly nodding his head, Jack leads him off the roof, down into the hub. “OK.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

 

\- **Tell me and I’ll forget; show me and I may remember; involve me and I’ll understand**.  
\- Chinese proverb

 

Gwen follows Ianto down into the main part of the hub. “It’s just that, you always seem to know everything. You know, when I first met you I thought you were psychic or something.” She stops when he looks back at her. “You’re not, right?”

“No more than the average man, Gwen.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” She smirks, but he keeps moving, tidying, clearing up. She hovers near his side. “I just… I used to think Jack confided in me. But he never did, did he? He would toss out bits of information, give me a little, but he’s like that with everyone. Isn’t he?”

“Yes,” he replies, shortly. Keeping his hands busy, he doesn’t look up as he speaks. He moves from station to station, eyes flickering to the monitors. Though they are all blank, he knows that Jack is still down in the morgue. “I don’t believe he’s had an actual, straight-forward conversation with anyone in years. Centuries, now. Not without working some angle, keeping things back.”

“He doesn’t talk to you?”

Ianto stops, straightening up. “He does, sometimes, in the dark when we’re alone. But it barely scratches the surface, there’s so much.” He looks Gwen in the eye, but he is far away in his mind. “Most of what I knew about Jack Harkness I learned before I ever met him. Yes, he tells me things about himself. About the man he is now. He doesn’t seem to like talking about his past much and I don’t press him.”

Shaking himself, Ianto smiles down at her. “We all have private memories that no one else need know. He does confide in you, Gwen. When he believes he can. I don’t know everything about him and I never will. He doesn’t know everything about me, but I tell him the important things.” With a tiny sigh, he stares at the floor. “It takes me a long time to open up to people.”

“Well, a long time or more than a few pints, right?” She gives him a sly, gap-toothed grin and he…

… _laughs, spluttering a mouthful of lager. “He’s terrible.” Ianto wipes his mouth and swallows quickly at the look on Gwen’s face. “I mean, he’s fantastic. Of course, he is. But he_ knows _he’s fantastic. Smug bastard.” He smirks, lifting his eyebrow. “You don’t ask a man to describe how it feels when you’ve got your mouth full. It’s just rude.” Gwen looks scandalized and slaps him on the shoulder. Ianto ducks and_ …

… picks up a stack of files off the coffee table, his arm shakes and he drops them. Gwen bends to pick them up and he smiles his thanks.

“Still sore?” she asks, setting the files aside.

“Not bad.” Ianto rubs his left shoulder. He’d caused more damage after dislocating it. Should have been wearing a sling, but there’d been no time. Didn’t think about it until much, much later when he was in agonizing pain. It took Jack grabbing him from behind to notice and insist on taking care of it. Ianto smiles at the memory and says to Gwen, “Jack’s pretty good with massage oil.”

She makes an odd, high-pitched squeak, covering her mouth with both hands. The smile on her face is so nice to see. Lightly touching his arm, she says softly, “He does let you in.”

Ianto drops his eyes, his mouth setting into a thin line. “We’re all just stumbling along, Gwen.”

 

\- **Everyone is like a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody**.  
\- Mark Twain

 

“Ianto? Are you alright?”

Startled, he looks up to see Jack in the doorway of his office. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Ianto clicks the mouse, closing down the open windows. He stands, pushing the chair back into Jack’s desk and makes his way across the room.

Jack leans into him as he approaches. “You don’t look it.”

“You’re usually much more flattering, sir.”

“Ianto…”

He looks up, into Jack’s eyes. “It’s one thing knowing, reading it in a file, even seeing evidence of it later.” He steps forward, bringing a hand up slowly to touch the spot on Jack’s forehead where not moments before a bullet had been expelled from his body. “Quite another to actually witness it.” He stares at the spot, fingers just grazing the skin. “Does it hurt?”

“The memory of it hurts worse.”

His eyes flick to Jack’s and he backs away. “The others are on their way in, like you requested, bringing the items they lifted from the archives. Don’t worry. I took the liberty of wiping the CCTV and replacing it with stock footage. They’ll never know, even if they go looking. Will you be needing further assistance with PC Cooper?”

“No. No, I’ve got this one.” Jack lets him pass, but calls him back. “Ianto?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thanks.”

“It’s my job, sir.”

 

\- **The secret of forgiving everything is to understand nothing**.  
\- George Bernard Shaw

 

“This does not count as a date,” Ianto whispers into Jack’s ear, as they carry a round of drinks from the bar back to the table and the rest of their team. Setting the glasses down, Ianto takes a seat in the booth next to Toshiko.

Jack slides in next to him, squishing up close. He leans in, lips grazing Ianto’s ear, and whispers back, “I wouldn’t dream of counting this as our first date.” Jack lingers, breath ghosting over Ianto’s neck.

“Oi!” Owen shouts from the opposite side of the table. “Get a room!”

Jack leers, whispering again, “Would it count as a date then?”

Rolling his eyes, Ianto nudges Jack away. He glares at Owen guzzling his pint. “Should you be drinking? You were just shot not a few hours ago.”

“Barely a scratch.” Owen waves his arm in the air then winces, clutching at his side.

Toshiko moves around to his side. “Alright? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home?”

“What?” Owen picks up his glass again, raising it to them. “And miss story time?”

Jack drums his hands on the table. “Right. So, tell me what I missed.”

“Don’t you even try that, Jack Harkness!” Gwen, sitting on his other side, swats his arm. “You’ve got more explaining to do, like say, why you couldn’t have left a bloody note?”

Next to him, Jack freezes, just for a second, but Gwen is laughing and so are the others and the moment passes. Ianto excuses himself to use the rest room. As expected, Jack enters just a few seconds later. “I’m just using the loo, Jack. Not going to vanish.”

Jack just stares back at him. “You didn’t tell them what you knew.”

Ianto finishes and zips up, moving to the sink to wash his hands. “No, I told them. I just didn’t tell them everything.” He glances over his shoulder at Jack. “Your secrets are still safe.”

“You thought I wasn’t coming back.” Jack stalks forward, crowding Ianto into a corner.

“You weren’t.”

Jack stops short, looking down at the floor. “No. Not originally.” He looks back up into Ianto’s eyes. “I hadn’t planned much past finding him again.”

Ianto fidgets, his hands still dripping. “Did you get your answers?”

“Yeah.” Nodding his head slowly, Jack sighs. “Not the ones I was hoping for, but… yeah. I’m all… inexplicable.”

“That’s certainly true.” Ianto smirks, reaching out to touch Jack, who moves in closer. He wipes his hands down the front of Jack’s shirt.

“Hey.” Jack catches his wrist and holds the hand against his chest. “I thought about you. A lot.”

Ianto drops his head, staring at the floor. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t.” He leans forward, just a bit, breath coming faster as Jack meets him. The kiss is soft, softer than any he’s ever received from Jack Harkness. Ianto slowly trails his hand up Jack’s arm to his shoulder then his neck and into his hair, tugging, fingers twisting. He opens his mouth and lets Jack in and Jack’s hands are clutching at the material of his shirt, pulling him closer, bodies flush together.

Jack breaks away first, bare millimeters, arms sliding around Ianto’s waist, holding him so very tight. He feels Jack’s breath warm against his neck as he whispers, “I really do want to do this properly. You know, the whole dating thing.”

“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“No. Don’t say that. Please,” Jack sighs, rubbing his cheek along Ianto’s jaw, rasping against the stubble.

Breath catching in his throat, he pulls Jack closer. “Are you really back?”

“I’m back, Ianto. I’m back.”

“OK.” He breathes in Jack’s scent. Somehow, it’s different. Something is different, but he can’t find the energy to ask. He kisses Jack’s cheek. “Just don’t buy me flowers.”

Jack pulls back to look into his eyes. “You don’t like flowers?”

“You take something alive and vibrant and beautiful and put them on display and let them wilt and die and decay. It’s rather depressing. And I’m not overly fond of flowery smells.” Ianto smiles and Jack laughs a small, breathy laugh.

The door opens behind them and a man stops short at the sight. He doesn’t say anything, just stalks past into the only stall with a door. Ianto bites his lip and blushes down at his feet. With a hand on Jack’s chest, he gently pushes him back toward the door. Jack squeezes his hand before they exit.

“You know,” Ianto muses, “that was my first time making out in a toilet.”

“Oh, we’ll have to revisit that at a later date.”

He pokes Jack in the side. “What’s the time? We have to take that bloody blowfish car back.”

Jack checks his watch. “Still too early. How did you get that car fixed up so quickly? Owen said he’d shot the tire out, but when we went to the garage the spare was already on.”

“I’m very good at multitasking. Plus, I’ve been training the weevils.* They are surprisingly receptive to instruction on mechanical repairs.”

“You know, sometimes I can’t tell when you’re joking.”

Ianto allows himself a smile. Then he stops short. He reaches over to grab Jack’s wrist and check the time. “Actually, I think we have some work to do. Come on.” He leads Jack past the table where the others are still sat. “We’re heading out. Bit of business,” he says, grabbing his jacket out of the booth by Toshiko.

Owen snorts into his pint, “Right. _Business_.”

Gwen turns, face alarmed. “What?” Her eyes flick to Jack. “You can’t leave. What about avoiding your other self?”

Jack shrugs, but Ianto answers for him. “Right now I’m chasing after you lot and Jack’s about to be pushed off a building. See you all tomorrow. Or… later, I guess.” He smiles down at Gwen. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure he’s still here. We’ve got to move fast.” Ianto hurries away and out the door with Jack following quickly.

\---

“Right. We’ve only got about fifteen minutes now, I think,” Ianto says over his shoulder to Jack as they enter the Torchwood garage. They’d left the red ‘blowfish car’ about a block away in a car park, and yet here sits its twin, towed back to the hub, tire still to be fixed.

Jack stops, hands on hips. “How did you..?”

“I didn’t fix it last time. Bit busy, wasn’t I?” Ianto removes his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves. He pulls a tire iron and a jack out of a tool bench along one wall. “I wouldn’t have even thought about it if you hadn’t mentioned it. Weird, huh?” He turns to look at Jack. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

Jack shakes his head and moves to help. Together they work efficiently and get the tire changed in less than ten minutes. Ianto tidies everything away, grabs his jacket and hurries Jack out of the garage. As they round a corner, heading away from the hub, he asks, “So, do we get to keep the double car? It’s not going to disappear or something? You’re the expert on this wonky time-travel business.”

 

\- **This one a long time have I watched. All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was**.  
\- Yoda

 

“I’ve already told you, Gwen.” Ianto gathers up the empty mugs from the table and heads back through the hub. “I don’t know where Jack is.”

“But you knew he left.” She gets up and follows right on his heels, leaving Owen and Toshiko behind. “You knew straightaway he hadn’t been taken against his will.”

“Yes.”

She darts around him to block his path. “How? How could you know that?”

Ianto stops. He glances up to the conference room and back to her. “I know everything about Torchwood, Gwen. Jack is… _was_ Torchwood.”

Crossing her arms, she stares up at him. “So, you know everything about Jack?”

With a sigh, Ianto brings a hand up to rub his tired eyes. “Nobody knows everything about Jack.” He opens his eyes to hers, huge and pleading, her innocence and unwavering faith. The knots in his stomach clench into a solid, heavy lump. She just wants reassurance, but he has none to give. “Jack was Torchwood, but Torchwood isn’t Jack.”

“And you really think he’s not coming back?”

Stepping around her, he continues on his way. “What would he come back for?”

 

\- **Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets**.  
\- Dr. Paul Tournier

 

“Are you alright, sir?” Ianto stands rigidly in the doorway to Jack’s office. It reeks of alcohol. The others had gone home hours ago. Owen, complaining loudly about his shoulder, had caught a ride home from Gwen. Toshiko had been the last to leave, lingering in the hub, darting glances up to Jack’s office. Ianto, as was his habit, had stayed behind.

Jack swirls the whisky in his glass. He doesn’t look up. “You should go on home, Ianto. I have a feeling we’re going to be very busy soon.”

“Yes, sir.” He doesn’t move, watching Jack slumped in his chair, gazing at nothing. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you.” Jack’s words are dull and clipped. He’s been drinking for hours now, but he’s not slurring. Ianto wonders if he’s just been staring at the glass, instead.

“Still no sign of Bilis.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up.” Finally, Jack looks up at him. His eyes are red and his face looks old. “Go home, Ianto.”

Ignoring the obvious dismissal, Ianto walks into the office and stands right in front of Jack’s desk. He stares into Jack’s eyes as he…

… _walks past with a brief, “Thanks, Ianto.” He nods as Jack passes him by and disappears down the hole in his office floor, leaving a trail of sorrow and exhaust fumes behind. Ianto pulls a small box wrapped in shiny red paper from his pocket and stares up at Jack’s empty office. He turns to leave the hub and head for home, slipping the box back into his pocket. Because it’s nothing special. Not important after a night like this. Ianto collects his coat and the keys to his ruined car. He walks home in the cold night air, breath puffing in white clouds, like knives in his lungs as he_ …

… sighs, “I’m glad you’re back, sir. Even if you aren’t.” Ianto looks down at his shoes, unable to watch Jack’s face. “Did you know, there are three Jack Harknesses on record in nineteen-forty-one? Now I know that two of them are you. Of course, there are actually three of you there now. Then. Maybe there always were, we just didn’t know about it.”

“Ianto-”

“I know what you’re doing here, Jack.” He looks up defiantly into Jack’s eyes. “I wasn’t the only one with an ulterior motive, was I? That?” Ianto points out of the office to the jar with the hand. “I was there the day Torchwood collected it, Jack. I was there the day it mysteriously vanished, too.” His lips curl just a tiny bit at the corners. “Still not sure how you pulled that one off, by the way.”

Jack sets his glass down, very deliberately, and leans back in his chair. He never takes his eyes off Ianto and doesn’t say a word. His face remains blank, not a twitch.

Ianto takes a deep breath. “You see, a few years ago you were spotted in Cardiff with a man and a blonde girl. Except you were already here.” Ianto points down, indicating the hub itself. “You thought you’d erased the evidence, but Torchwood London was very good at keeping tabs on you. And him.” He waits, but still no reaction. “Most of the records were destroyed in the battle, you know.” Biting his lip, Ianto averts his eyes. “I took care of the rest later. There’s no more evidence. Not a trace.” He looks back up into Jack’s eyes. “The others have no idea.”

“Why are you telling me all of this, Ianto?”

He laughs, a small, humorless laugh, eyes downcast, biting his lip. “Because I’m an idiot.” He takes another two steps toward Jack. “Lisa was gone. I know that now. The beautiful person I loved was gone, lost to me. I think I knew it then; I just couldn’t let her go, even though she wasn’t really here. The thing is,” he stops, swallows. “Neither are you. Not really. And I can’t hold onto another ghost, Jack.”

It’s the expression on Jack’s face that really brings it home to Ianto. He understands that Jack hadn’t realized, that it had probably never occurred to him at all. For Jack it had all just been sex, a way of passing the time with someone instead of being lonely all by themselves. There were never supposed to be _feelings_ involved.

“It’s fine.” Ianto waves a hand, dismissing everything. “I knew from the start, Jack. Just… when you go? Just… just do it. No long goodbyes. Just disappear. And I’ll know. I’ll know you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for.”

 

\- **Did you hide inside each outright lie before you turned it true the ability to do all things the Captain says?**  
\- Okkervil River, Murderess

 

Jack is on the floor of his office, overturned bottle a few inches from his outstretched hand. He doesn’t do this often, but when he does it’s always bad. Almost as though he saves it up for so long that it has to catch up all at once. Ianto bends down and picks up the bottle. He has to cover his mouth and nose with one hand to keep the fumes from knocking him out. His eyes sting as he caps the bottle and mops up the spillage with a towel. Jack just lies there, watching impassively.

When he’s finished cleaning up, Ianto lifts Jack under his arms and hauls him into a sitting position. “Come on. Up you go.”

“I’m not wearing any pants.”

“No, sir, you are not.”

“I miss Suzie.”

Ianto stops. He leans Jack back against the side of the desk. “I know.”

“She wouldn’t have cared about that girl, though. We can’t take back what happened to her.” Ianto isn’t sure if he means what happened to Suzie or Carys, but he nods all the same. Jack’s face creases, eyes turned up to him. “The clinic. Those men. We have to-”

“Already taken care of, sir. Can you get up and walk?” He helps Jack clamber to his feet, steadying him as they struggle to the hatch and down the ladder. Jack strips the rest of his own clothes off and lowers himself onto the bed. As Ianto turns to leave, Jack grabs his hand and doesn’t even have to say anything. Ianto removes his own clothing and slips into the bed beside Jack.

Later, when they’re both naked and the sweat is drying on their skin, Ianto is just talking, sure that Jack is too far gone to even be paying attention. His insides are twisting in that way they do after his times with Jack. The release is never enough and it leaves a lingering tightness within his whole body. Usually, he keeps himself in check until he can be on his own again. Now, he’s just rambling. “She laughed, but I was terrified. And I got really angry with her. I really should learn to swim. Don’t know why I never did. But it was the best day.”

“We used to have a laugh,” Jack’s words startle him. “Suzie and I. When it was just the two of us here. There was that guy, Rusty, for a while, but he only lasted six months. Begged to be ret-conned. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

“He’s living in Cornwall. He got married.” Ianto looks down at Jack’s perplexed face and gives that not-quite smile. “It is protocol to keep tabs on ex-employees for up to five years after ret-conning them.”

Jack nods, his head and most of his body are pressed up against Ianto in the small bed. “That Gwen. She’s pretty cute.”

“Yes, I suppose so. She reminds me of a girl I knew in school.”

“You think she’ll last long?”

“Hard to say, sir. First days at Torchwood are generally poor indicators of one’s abilities and resilience.” Ianto fidgets, flicking at the sheet partially covering him. He slides his arm out from under Jack’s weight. “I need to go.”

“OK.” Jack curls up in the warm space Ianto leaves and doesn’t watch as he dresses.

 

\- **There’s little in taking or giving. There’s little in water or wine. This living, this living, this living was never a project of mine**.  
\- Dorothy Parker

 

It’s cold down in the morgue. It probably should be. Jack can’t feel it, though. He can’t feel the hard cement beneath his butt or the icy wall at his back. He’s not entirely sure he’s still breathing. But he’s still here. He will always be here. Forever.

He can’t possibly have any purpose beyond this: Destroying the lives of all he’s touched.

 

\- **She said my name and my spirit are both corrupted; if you hold me close, you gotta hold me up**.  
\- Sunset Rubdown, The Mending of the Gown

 

“Since when does ‘Go home’ mean ‘Go hide out in the tourist office’?” Jack strolls in from the secret door. He loves that startled look on Ianto’s face, even if it only lasts for a split-second. “You should have stayed downstairs. We could have played cards. It’s been a while, but I think I still remember the rules to strip poker.” He leans his elbows on the desk, grinning.

Ianto stares back. He doesn’t move away or toward Jack. His voice is soft as his eyes drop. “I thought you’d want to be alone.”

“No, not really.” Straightening up, Jack stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Much rather have some company. And whatever Tosh’s computer is doing, it keeps making this bleepy noise that’s driving me crazy.”

“A short trip, I imagine.”

He glances up at Ianto and spots the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you doing here? Everyone else went home hours ago.”

“I…” Ianto, head still bent, flits his eyes up then away. “I’ve only been back a few days. Still got lots of filing to catch up on.” He waves a file at Jack. “Did Tosh really turn Owen into a monkey?”

Laughing, Jack takes the file and flips it open. “It only lasted a few hours. And, really, Owen did it to himself. If Tosh ever tells you not to touch something on her desk, be sure to listen.” He tosses the file back onto the stack. “Gwen took pictures and you didn’t have to clean up after him, so you really didn’t miss much. He got himself stuck up in the rafters, though. That was pretty funny. Good thing Myfanwy didn’t try to eat him.” Jack chuckles, feeling triumphant, for Ianto almost, _almost_ laughs, too. He leans against the desk again. “Ianto. You’re here early and you stay late. You shouldn’t keep doing that.”

Ianto looks down at his hands flat on the desk. He shuffles some papers and moves them off to the side. “I’ve finished making the arrangements.” He looks up briefly then back down. “For Miss Cole.”

Turning away, Jack bites the inside of his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Ianto slides a red folder across the space. “The service is on Saturday. Details in here.”

“Thanks.” Jack picks the folder up and holds it against his chest. “I promised to be with her forever,” he says so quietly. He doesn’t check if Ianto heard. “I made her a promise and then I left. I disappeared, because I thought I’d be sparing her. Saving her after I couldn’t save-” He feels the sting of tears, but manages to hold them in. “And this still happens.” The folder slips from his hands as Ianto takes it and spreads it open on the desk between them.

“She was quite a remarkable lady. Look at all of the amazing things she did in her life.”

It was true. She had traveled the world. She had found adventure and magic like she’d been looking for when he’d first met her. Jack wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye. She always believed in the impossible, his beautiful Estelle. Somehow, Jack thinks she always knew. “Why do I always have to be the bad guy…” he mumbles to himself.

“Sir?”

He hadn’t meant for Ianto to hear that. Turning to face him, Jack asks, “So, how much did they tell you, then? They’re not speaking to me.”

Ianto shifts from foot to foot. “I haven’t spoken with them much, either. Except for Toshiko, occasionally. And Owen keeps asking me random questions trying to gauge my mental health. At least, I think that’s why he’s doing it.” He tries a smile, but it seems to falter half-way. He shakes his head. “But no, they didn’t tell me. You all had your comms on.”

Jack waits for him to look up and meet his eyes. “How much did you hear?”

“All of it. Enough. I know you didn’t want to give up that girl and I know you didn’t make that decision lightly.”

“You were right, you know. I am a monster.”

Ianto doesn’t so much wince as drop his eyes and bite his lips, but the effect is still the same and Jack feels bad for bringing it up. He starts to say, but Ianto looks up again. “No, you aren’t… Jack. I’m sorry I said that; I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did. Maybe you feel bad about it now, but you meant it when you said it.”

“Yes.” Ianto nods. “I did.” He moves around the desk to stand face to face with Jack. “But I don’t believe it. Monsters are real, I know that. I’ve seen it. And I don’t just mean aliens. The people I worked for were monstrous. They used anything and everything for their own selfish gains, sacrificing all others for themselves.” He takes another step forward and Jack can barely breathe. “Not you, though. You did what was right to save others. You risk your own life, your own _soul_ , for the good of innocent people, Jack. Those… things are far more powerful than we could ever imagine, aren’t they?”

“Yes. They are.”

“Then, if this world is truly worth saving, you made the right decision, sir.” Ianto says it so somberly, so seriously, and it’s clear he’s not just talking about the little girl and the faeries anymore. Jack shakes his head and looks down at the floor, but Ianto keeps talking, “You make the hard decisions, because we can’t. You take the blame and the burden willingly and without complaint even though you don’t have to.”

Looking up into Ianto’s eyes, Jack says, “Maybe I have reasons.”

“Maybe you do. But you make the choice. There’s always a choice, Jack.”

“Go home, Ianto.”

With a nod, Ianto collects his coat and keys, shuffling the paperwork up and locking it away in a drawer. At the door, he turns back. “I’m thinking of moving. I mean, to a new flat.”

“Oh.” Jack relaxes back against the desk with his hands in his pockets. “You should. Anything is better than that tiny little hole you’ve got.”

“You’re one to talk, sir.”

 

\- **I believe that we are solely responsible for our choices, and we have to accept the consequences of every deed, word and thought throughout our lifetime**.  
\- Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

 

With his head resting on his knees, Jack runs his fingers through…

… _her soft hair blowing in the breeze as she stands back in the crowds. He calls out to her, “I’ll make you proud, Mum.” He waves from the platform, straining to hear her reply over the last boarding call and the rush of recruits all around him. Men and women of all ages shouting farewells to their loved ones, all eager and anxious. He’s going to make a difference. He’s going to keep her safe and bring their family back together. With his best friend at his side. They hold hands as they enter the loading dock together, smiling and ready for excitement. When he looks back the sun is so bright he has to squint, but he can spot her easily. Her sandy hair and bright blue eyes shine like a beacon. It is the image that stays in his mind for years, for when he comes back home and she is_ …

… gone. They’re all gone. Jack’s carefully handpicked team: Gone. His brother, the one he’d spent years searching for: Gone. As much as he hates to admit it, that man in the cryo-chamber is not _his_ Gray. His baby brother is never coming back. And The Doctor is gone and Rose is lost and he’ll be damned if he’s going to drag Martha Jones into this.

Everyone he’s ever loved: Gone forever.

He couldn’t save any of them. Even when he tries, he gets it…

… _wrong. The Doctor called him wrong. And now Owen is wrong, as well. And Martha was nearly killed. Twice. “What do I do?” Jack pleads, hiding his face in the folds of the suit. “Can I never get it right?” The arms around Jack hold him tighter and words aren’t necessary between them. Jack brushes his fingers through dark hair and_ …

… looks up at the soft tap of shoes on the cold floor. Ianto.

 

\- **When you think the night has seen your mind, that inside you’re twisted and unkind, let me stand to show that you are blind. Please put down your hands, ‘cause I see you**.  
\- Lou Reed, Nico, I’ll Be Your Mirror

 

Sitting just on the edge of his desk with his arms folded and his legs, crossed at the ankle, stretched out in front of him, head down, Jack listens as silence descends on the hub. The door has just rolled shut, sealing him off once more. Another day, another death. Sort of.

As Ianto enters, Jack asks him, forcing a grin, “So, what _can_ you do with a stopwatch?”

Faltering, Ianto bites his lower lip and blushes down at the ground. “I didn’t actually have a plan, but I figured you, if anyone, could come up with more than a few suggestions.” He plucks the stopwatch out of his pocket and holds it up, offering.

Jack takes the stopwatch and rolls it between his hands. He reaches back and sets it down on the desk. “Can we maybe save that for another time?”

Ianto steps closer and Jack uncrosses his legs. “Yes, sir.”

He brings a hand up to Ianto’s tie, runs the smooth silk between his fingers. “And can we save _that_ for another time, also?”

Nodding, Ianto maneuvers himself between Jack’s legs and puts both hands on his shoulders. Leaning forward, he places a tender, almost chaste kiss onto Jack’s lips and breathes, “Yes, Jack.”

 

\- **Actually, this seems to be the basic need of the human heart in nearly every great crisis - a good, hot cup of coffee**.  
\- Alexander King

 

Ianto hands Jack his white mug with the blue stripes and slides down to sit beside him on the floor of the morgue. “So you don’t freeze to death down here,” he says, with the hint of a smile. “You’ve told me that’s one of your least favorite ways to go.”

“Thanks.” Jack inhales then takes a long drink. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until that moment.

“You’ve been down here a long time.” Ianto sips his own coffee, stretching his legs out on the floor in front of him.

“You’re getting your suit all dirty.” Jack points to the filthy cement.

“Tends to happen with you around, doesn’t it?”

“You always catch me,” Jack says softly, gratefully, reaching for Ianto’s hand. Their fingers entwine and he pulls Ianto closer, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“You know, Gwen’s watching us on the camera there,” Ianto says, but there’s laughter in his voice.

“She’s already seen the live show.” Jack speaks directly into Ianto’s mouth, tongue brushing over his lips. They kiss for a minute, an eternity.

Gwen’s voice floats down to them over the intercom, “ _Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a weevil alert near a playground. It’s evening, so there may not be many kids about, but we should still go take care of it_.”

Pulling away, Jack groans. He stands and helps Ianto to his feet. “No rest for the wicked.”

Gwen has the SUV ready and waiting when Jack and Ianto get up there. She reluctantly slides over to let Jack drive. When they reach the park, Gwen is the first one out, “Ianto, go up the side that way. Jack, you check out that alley over there. I’ll go through the park. There aren’t many people about right now, so this should be a simple sweep.” She’s off before either man has a chance to question her.

Jack tugs at Ianto’s sleeve before they part. He grins. “She’s getting pretty good, isn’t she?”

 

\- **People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built**.  
\- Eleanor Roosevelt

 

Taking the bottle of ret-con pills from Ianto, Jack shakes it and asks, “How much did you bring?”

“I wasn’t sure how we’d be transporting it. There could have been other witnesses.” Ianto looks down at the unconscious men laid out on the floor by the loading dock.

“Always thinking ahead, Ianto.” Jack places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes once. He starts to walk out into the fresh air. “We’ll have to make sure Gwen has enough for Rhys.”

Ianto’s eyes remain downcast. “Right. She’s not going to like that idea.” Jack looks back, curious, and Ianto explains. “It’s been hard on her, Jack.”

“Is this how she was while I was gone?”

“She was great while you were gone. She… did things differently and there was an adjustment period, but she got the job done.” Jack is almost stunned. He wouldn’t have thought that Ianto would be defending Gwen to him quite so strongly. Before he can ask, Ianto continues, “She was angry that you left.” Ianto shrugs. “She probably still is and it’s difficult for her to accept that you’re back in charge.” His lips curl and he says quietly, “She was angry with me for a while, because I couldn’t tell her where you were. She thought I _wouldn’t_ , but I honestly didn’t know. Not precisely.”

Jack softens and reaches a hand up to brush Ianto’s jaw. Behind them there is a groan as the men start to wake. “Great. Now the fun part.”

They administer enough ret-con to each of the men to wipe out the last few months of their lives. Jack decides to leave it to Toshiko to come up with a clever cover story. He’s going to suggest something really, really painful and embarrassing. He saves the man who’d held Ianto and Rhys hostage for last. He’s still only barely conscious. “You stunned him in the forehead?”

Ianto finishes tying their hands. “He shot me in the head. It seemed only fair.”

Forcing the pills down the man’s throat and cuffing him to the railing, Jack pushes away from it and pulls Ianto by the sleeve of his coat. “I don’t want you out in the field anymore.”

“What?” Facing him full-on, Ianto’s eyes dart to the warehouse and back. “Jack, I know I screwed up and got caught, but-”

“No. That’s not what I meant.” He puts both hands on Ianto’s shoulders and looks him right in the eye. “You did really well today, Ianto. I’m not saying that I’m taking you off field missions. I just want it known that I don’t like it.” He stares into Ianto’s eyes until understanding fills them. “You were really, really good today. I’m proud of you. Later, you’re going to have to show me some of your moves.” Jack grins and Ianto rolls his eyes, blushing.

The black SUV pulls up into the lot and Toshiko hops out. “Got it, Jack. Are you sure you want to do this?”

With one last look at Ianto, Jack moves to help unload the equipment. Together the three of them set it up inside the warehouse while Tosh updates them on Rhys’s condition, “He’s still out, but Owen says he got lucky. The bullet came out easily and there’s no severe damage.”

Snapping the last piece into place, Ianto steps back to Jack’s side. “You’re sure this will work? This hasn’t been used in over fifty years.”

“It’ll work.” Jack checks the readings on his wrist strap. “Everyone outside.”

Toshiko stops and looks at the pitiful creature. “I feel like we should say something.” She turns her face up to Jack.

He takes a deep breath, staring up at the creature, and whispers, “It’s not like this everywhere.”

When they are safely outside, Jack activates the machine to vaporize every bit of biological matter within its perimeter. “It’s done.” So easy, so quick, there’s not even a disturbance in the air.

As Tosh goes back inside to pack everything up, Ianto lays a hand on Jack’s arm. “Can I ask? Just how were you planning on sending it back through the rift? You’ve said we have no way of knowing where things end up, so…”

“I don’t know, Ianto. I just didn’t want to leave it there. I didn’t want to kill it. Just once, can’t we save everything and live happily ever after? Just once?”

“When you left, I… I thought you’d be happy. But you weren’t, were you?”

Jack closes his eyes and bows his head. When he lifts it again and opens them, Ianto is watching him. “I had to leave, so that I could come back.”

Rhys is only just waking up when they arrive back at the hub.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

\- **I don't think about risks much. I just do what I want to do. If you gotta go, you gotta go**.  
\- Miss Lillian Carter

 

“Jack,” Ianto taps his earpiece, “do you see what I’m seeing?”

In the settling dusk, the shadows grow and morph, melting into everything. Near the mouth of the park by a stand of trees there is a pack of weevils gathered in a huddle and more coming to join them.

_“Yes,”_ Jack answers, his voice tinny sounding in Ianto’s ear. _“Gwen, fall back, now. Stay with Ianto. I’m going to see if I can lure them away back toward the sewer entrance here.”_

She does as she’s told and drops back to Ianto’s position, just inside the fence near some bushes. She turns her head to whisper to him, “What’s brought them all out here? They don’t appear to be doing anything. Just… crowding around.”

“I think I have an idea.” Ianto holds up a sleek, black device in his hand. “It’s Tosh’s rift activity monitor,” he explains, “the portable one she’d been working on. Do you see?” He points into the center of the weevil conference. “There. You see that object there? They must have been attracted to that.”

“There was no rift activity. The alarm didn’t go off.”

“No,” Ianto mutters, “that’s odd.” He taps his ear again. “Jack, can you get close enough to see what they’re… guarding?” he says, for lack of a better word. He peers through the darkness, watching as Jack moves along the periphery of the weevil camp.

_“Not sure what it is, but it looks like a long, metal… thing. It’s sort of twisted. Can’t tell if it’s just space junk or what.”_

Gwen huffs next to him. “Why are the weevils so attracted to strange metal objects?”

“You’d have to ask Owen.” Ianto immediately realizes what he’s said. He ignores the look Gwen shoots him. “He’d be good to have around right about now. King of the weevils and all.”

 

\- **Who died and made you fucking king of the zombies?**  
\- Ed, Shaun of the Dead

 

“Hello! Need I remind you?” Owen waves his hand at himself. “Just a couple of weevils, I can handle. Piece of cake.”

Jack straps his holster on, refusing to look at Owen. “We don’t know that it’s weevils. Tosh, you got the location?”

“Yep. I can monitor the rift spikes from here and let you know if there are anymore,” she calls back, tapping away at her keyboard.

Turning back to Owen, Jack continues, “It could be anything and we’re not taking the risk.”

“Why the hell not?” Owen shouts, glancing between Jack and Ianto. “I can still run. Faster than both of you now that I don’t get winded.”

Grabbing his coat and heading for the door, Jack storms past. “Because nobody wants to look at you walking around with your eyeballs hanging out and your throat slashed open.”

“Superglue only fixes so much,” Ianto adds, ducking after Jack, but turning back to Owen, briefly. “We could try some paint and spackle, though.”

“Driving!” Owen chases after them. He follows them up into the garage. “I can drive while you two chase on foot.”

“You’ve only got one good hand,” Jack says, hopping into the SUV and starting the ignition.

“Bloody hell! Let me do something!” Owen jumps in the passenger seat when Ianto opens the door. Ianto rolls his eyes, slams the door and climbs into the back.

Jack glares at Owen, tight-lipped and gritting his teeth. “Fine. I guess you’re coming then. But I’m still driving.”

A few minutes later, Tosh tells them, _“Jack, you’re there. It’s been clear for about ten minutes now. No more rift activity. Just the one big spike.”_

Parking the SUV and peering out the window, Jack mutters, “Damn. There _are_ weevils.” A growing number of weevils all heading in the same direction, to be exact.

“Why are they acting like that?” Owen asks. “It’s as if they’re running from something.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. “What could be scaring the weevils?”

“You mean besides him?” Ianto, leaning forward between the two seats, jerks a thumb in Owen’s direction and gets a sneer in return.

“Looks like it’s a good thing we brought you, Owen.” Jack twists in his seat. “Go. Do your thing. See if you can force them back into the sewers. If not, just hold their attention for a bit. Ianto, with me.”

They split up, Owen going right into the center of the weevils and Ianto following Jack. Owen’s reedy voice sails over their comms, _“Uh, Jack. Whatever else is out here must be scarier than me, ‘cause they aren’t moving. They seem to be crowding around something.”_

“Can you see what it is?” Jack asks, gesturing for Ianto to stay behind him.

_“Yeah.”_ Owen’s voice sounds low and troubled. _“You’d better come and take a look at this.”_

Owen wades in and the weevils cower before him. He reaches out with his foot to roll the body over. The dead weevil has been ripped apart. “What did this, Jack?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t weevils.” Jack looks around, warily. “They don’t do this to their own.”

“Jack,” Ianto clears his throat and touches the sleeve of Jack’s coat. “I think whatever did this is over there.” They all look in the direction Ianto is pointing.

“Shit!” Owen leaps back as a bunch more weevils come running their way.

“OK.” Jack nods. He places one hand on Owen’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to split up. Owen, you’ll take care of the weevils. Ianto get this body into the SUV and back to the hub. I’ll go after the… other thing.”

_“You can’t go off by yourself, Jack.”_

“Tosh?”

“She’s right.” Ianto taps his ear. “Tosh, I think-”

_“Gwen’s hen night will have to be delayed a bit. Right. Ringing her now.”_

 

\- **I accept chaos. I am not sure whether it accepts me**.  
\- Bob Dylan

 

It all happens so fast, Ianto can hardly recall it later. And that’s saying something. Gwen sits bleeding in the passenger seat. The metal object is loaded into the back of the SUV. The weevils had scattered, two injured, and hopefully gone back into the sewers. With only the three of them, they hadn’t been able to split up to make sure the weevils didn’t cause any more mayhem.

Jack lies dead in the back seat.

Ianto speeds around a corner causing Gwen to cry out as her seatbelt pulls tight across her stomach. Ianto curses and tells her, “You’ll be all right, Gwen. We’re almost to the hospital.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” She presses a hand to her middle, staunching the blood flow. “I’m fine.”

Flipping his mobile open, Ianto dials the emergency code Owen had set up. When they arrive at the hospital, there is already a team waiting to take the injured inside. Silently, Ianto thanks Owen for being damned good at his job.

One of the doctors opens the back door to check on Jack. Ianto practically leaps over the seat to stop her, but his own seatbelt holds him back. “No! He’s alright!”

“Let me just check him.” She forcefully shoves Ianto’s hands away to check for a pulse. She pulls out a stethoscope and checks again. Looking up, she meets Ianto’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but he’s-”

Jack gasps back to life, abruptly sitting up. He looks confused for a moment before turning to see the doctor behind him. “Hello there. Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Yes.” She replies, slowly, eyeing his outstretched hand and leaning away from him. “I know who you are.” Turning away, she moves to the group to take Gwen inside. “Just lie back, dear, we’ll get you put right.”

Exchanging a quick look with Jack, Ianto hurries to clamber out of the vehicle and follow into the hospital with Jack close behind. They reach the corridor just as the trolley carrying Gwen disappears through a set of doors. Jack buttons his coat closed to hide the blood and starts in that direction, but the doctor from outside steps in his way.

“Captain Harkness? Dr. Connelly.” She extends a hand, decisively, waiting for him to take it. She has an air of calm determination and detachment. “Don’t worry, your friend is in good hands and she’ll be just fine. I need some information, first.”

Jack shakes her hand and gives her his best placating smile. “We appreciate your promptness, but I really don’t have time to go through the specifics with you. Just fix her.”

“Yeah. That’s about what I expected from you. Owen on holiday or something?” She tucks a pen into her clipboard and gestures for them to follow.

Ianto glances briefly at Jack and catches up to the doctor. “You knew Owen?”

“He’s usually the one I deal with. He’s only slightly more helpful.” She looks back over her shoulder and stops.

“Then you haven’t heard,” Jack murmurs. He takes a step toward her. “Owen was… He was killed during the terrorist attacks on the city a few of weeks ago.”

The only visible reaction is in her eyes. The rest of her face and body remain expressionless. “I… No, I hadn’t heard. I’m very sorry.”

“Did you say Dr. Connelly?” Ianto asks. “Dr. Angela Connelly?”

“Yes.”

He nods to himself and extends his hand. “Ianto Jones.”

She smiles warmly at him, “Oh, yes, of course.”

Jack clears his throat. “We’d like to see Gwen as soon as possible.”

Dr. Connelly turns sharp eyes toward him. “I’ll let you know as soon as she’s comfortable.”

\---

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ianto smiles down at a sleepy Gwen. “Always use Jack as a human shield.”

“I’ll remember that next time.” She presses a hand to the bandage on her stomach.

“ _Next_ time,” Jack says, leaning forward to brush her hair out of her face, “just stick to my plan.”

Gwen struggles to sit up in the bed. “Jack, unless your plan was to lie there while the weevils _ate_ you, it all went to shit about five seconds in.”

“Oh,” he waves a hand in the air, “weevils don’t really eat humans. Human _parts_ , maybe, but not whole live ones.”

“Which you weren’t,” Ianto points out.

There are shouts out in the corridor and the sound of metal crashing into a wall. “Gwen!” Rhys appears in the doorway and rushes over. “What’s happened to you?” He shoves his way to the bed and reaches for her.

“It’s fine,” she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I’m fine.” But the relief is evident in her voice and her eyes.

Ianto backs away from the bed, jerking his head at Jack to follow him out into the hall. “You called him?”

“No, I thought you did.”

“I did.” Dr. Connelly appears beside them. “He’s listed as her emergency contact. She’s free to go home now, but she needs rest and I’ve a prescription for antibiotics she’ll need to fight off any infections. She’s had all her jabs so, depending on what sort of _’wild animal’_ it was, she should be alright.”

Jack nods. “Yeah, that’s good. You can go on in there and tell them, I think. We should let Rhys take her home. Could you tell her we had to get back to work? Thanks. Ianto?” He about turns and marches off.

Ianto rolls his eyes, but offers the doctor a smile. “Thank you for all your help.” He follows Jack out of the hospital.

\---

“Yep, knew it.” Ianto taps the sheaf of papers on Jack’s desk. “She’s on the list.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair. It is still wet from his recent shower and drips onto his clean shirt. Taking the top sheet, he looks up the information in the system. He reads aloud, “Dr. Angela Connelly, thirty-eight. Husband, two kids. What the hell was Owen thinking?” He turns his chair to face Ianto.

“That she’s a good doctor and hardly blinked when you came back to life.” Leaning forward, over Jack’s shoulder, Ianto clicks the mouse and scrolls down the page. “Look at this. Owen detailed one occasion when she helped him out. No ret-con was administered.”

Frowning, Jack studies the computer screen. “Do you people not realize that we have protocols for a reason?”

“Jack. You’re always the first to break procedure, so shut up and just read this, will you?” Ianto rolls his eyes at Jack’s pout and forcibly turns his chair back to the desk. “We don’t need to train her as a field agent, Jack, but we need a doctor. And she’s good.”

“What does she know about aliens, huh? No experience, none. What do you think she’ll do if we get another freaky alien pregnancy?”

Ianto straightens up and tugs at his waistcoat. “That’s not going to happen again, because Gwen’s already had a go and I refuse.” He tries to hide his smile, but Jack must spot it; he pokes Ianto in the ribs. “Jack, what experience with aliens did Owen have before you brought him in? Pretty much none, right? He learned. She can learn.”

Jack turns his face away and Ianto senses it coming before he even says, “I brought him in and look what it got him.”

Folding his arms, Ianto stands next to the chair and stares down at the top of Jack’s head. “I’m not having this conversation with you again.”

“If this thing still worked properly,” Jack says, tapping his wrist strap. “I’d go back in time. Or forward. All the way to where it all started and stop it from happening. All of it.” Looking up, he loops one arm around Ianto, pulling him closer, onto his lap.

Ianto rolls his eyes and wriggles out of Jack's hold to perch at the edge of the desk facing him. Running his fingers through Jack’s hair, he says, “You can’t do that.”

“But I would.”

“No, I mean you couldn’t do it.” He cups Jack’s chin and tips his face up. “If you _could_ , you’d have done it long ago when that thing _did_ still work. Back before this, before me, before Torchwood and The… You’d have done it as soon as you got that. But you didn’t and you wouldn’t.”

“I want to.”

“I know, Jack.”

 

\- **Time may change me, but I can’t trace time**.  
\- David Bowie, Changes

 

The rift alarm had gone off just after midnight. Ianto had still been in the hub at the time. He and Jack had got dressed in record time and hurried out to a library in Cathays Park. The woman they’d found looked to be in her late thirties, except for the fact that her hair had gone completely white.

They are still out at Flat Holm when the others arrive at the hub, calling Jack to find out where he is. He wanders off into a corner of the rec room to speak with Toshiko. “Nothing to worry about, Tosh. Yeah, Ianto and I are just taking care of a little… weevil situation. Yep, that was the rift spike this morning.” He waves Ianto over from across the room. “Nope, we got it covered, Tosh. I’m going to drop Ianto home on my way back so he can get cleaned up. Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” He cuts communication and turns his eyes to Ianto. “So, how are they doing with her?”

“She says her name is Alis and she wants to go home. That’s it, really.”

“Not much to go on. Nothing else? About where she was or what she saw?”

“No, not really.” Ianto clasps his hands behind his back. “She doesn’t like the dark.”

Jack gives him a humorless little smile. “I know the feeling.” He sighs, pats Ianto on the shoulder and heads for the door. “I’ll tell Helen to keep working with her, try to get something. Come on, I’ve got to get back to the hub and you need to go home and get some sleep.”

“Jack, I-”

“At least get cleaned up and change your clothes then?” Jack stops and turns to face him. “And you don’t have to come in until later today, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

\---

While the team is out on a call - a routine RTA, but the police had called them out anyway - Ianto takes advantage of the calm and the quiet. He scribbles this morning’s events down in his diary. His thoughts always appear disjointed, rambling when written down. He writes in a way that would confuse anyone reading it, to protect the secrets, but it makes sense to him and that’s all that matters. He looks up when the door rattles and opens.

“It was Eugene,” Jack says to Ianto as he approaches the desk in the tourist office.

It takes a moment for Ianto to dig through his mind and slot the information into place. “Gwen’s stalker?”

“He wasn’t a stalker.” Jack sighs, leaning against the desk. “He was just a kid who believed in the impossible when everyone around him was telling him he was crazy.” Jack turns sharply. “And what are you doing here? I told you not to come in until later. Later meant like sometime this afternoon, not later within the hour.”

“I showered and changed quickly, so I just came back.”

“You should have got some _sleep._ ”

Ianto shrugs, averting his eyes. “I wasn’t tired.” He’d come straight back to the hub as soon as possible, got on the phone to Helen to see if she had any more information from their new arrival, then he’d looked up all missing persons reports for anyone named Alis in the last thirty years. He’d been just about to expand it when Jack had walked in. “I spoke with Helen again. The woman, Alis, doesn’t seem to say much at all and I haven’t found anything that would fit. Only two reports of women named Alis gone missing in the last thirty years. One was resolved…” he falters, but carries on, “there was a body and the other woman was much older than ours. I can keep looking, though. Go further back. I-”

“Jack.” Tosh pokes her head into the office. “Gwen is convinced that Eugene must have had something important. She wants us to go check it out.”

“Yeah, OK. Why don’t the two of you-”

“Gwen’s going to…” Tosh steps inside. She glances at Ianto and fidgets in her coat. “She’s going to speak with the mother and…”

Jack doesn’t make her finish. “Right. Of course. Go on down to the hub and see if Owen is done with the body. You had a program you were working on, yeah?”

“Yes. I’ll send Owen up.” She hurries toward the hidden door as Ianto pushes the button for her.

He looks back up at Jack. “Why don’t you go with him, Ianto.” It’s not a question. “I promised to get you out of the hub more. Go on. Keep them occupied. I’m just going to go back out to…”

Standing, Ianto hands Jack the file he’d started on Alis and the keys to his car.

\---

Gwen finishes her first, and only, autopsy with Owen’s help. Ianto tries his best to ignore their flirting, though he notes that Gwen seems more annoyed with Owen than usual. She stomps up from the autopsy bay.

“Ianto. Do you know where Jack is? I need to talk to him.”

Minimizing the search window on the monitor, Ianto looks up and says, “He had to go out on a call.”

“Oh? Was it something important? He shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“He said it was nothing serious, just one of the local facilities that we deal with. He should be back soon.” Ianto has no idea when Jack will get back, just that he’ll be wrecked when he does. “Anything I can do?”

“No, thanks. I’m just going to go through this stuff we brought back.”

\---

“Alis Gibbon. Twenty-three years old. Part-time student, works in the library.” Ianto sets down the printouts and leans over Jack’s shoulder to tap at the keyboard of his computer. “That’s her there.” He points to the CCTV footage playing out on the monitor.

“When was this taken?”

Standing back, Ianto folds his arms across his chest. “About an hour ago.”

“What?” Jack whips his head around to look up at Ianto.

“She’s still here, Jack. Alis Gibbon is still here. That… person that came back…” Ianto waves a hand in the air and walks away from the desk. He turns back. “Is it possible it’s not her?”

“No.” Jack stares at the images on the screen. He clicks to replay it. A young woman with long dark hair steps up on a ladder, shelving books. Such a simple, ordinary, everyday task. “We did the DNA match. It’s her.”

“Then… that means it hasn’t happened yet?” Ianto’s eyes light up, almost wild. “We could stop it.”

“No. We can’t.”

“But we could prevent it from happening.” Ianto approaches the desk, leans forward, both hands flat against the cool wood. “We could protect her. Move her out of the city. Something.”

“No,” Jack says, slowly, sadly. “We can’t. It’s already done.”

“But it’s not!” Pushing away from the desk, from Jack, Ianto paces the office again. “She’s still here. She hasn’t been taken yet!”

Standing and coming around the desk, Jack plants himself in front of Ianto and stops him in his tracks. “But she’s already been returned. We can’t change that, Ianto. We _can’t_.” Jack reaches up to touch his shoulder, but Ianto retreats. Jack drops his head, defeated. When he looks up, his eyes are wet and his voice shakes as he whispers, “There’s nothing I can do.”

\---

Ianto raps his knuckles lightly on the doorframe of Jack’s office. Getting no response other than a quick glance, Ianto enters. Jack is tapping away at his keyboard, seemingly engrossed in his work. Before Ianto can speak, Jack turns to him and says, “You should have seen it, Ianto. He saved Gwen’s life and then just…” Jack’s hand glides up, slowly, toward the ceiling. “It was… there was this… brightness all around him and he just sort of…”

“Like the rift?” Ianto wishes he’d been there, wishes he could see the things the others see.

“No. Not like the rift. It was different. It felt safe and it was beautiful.” Jack smiles a soft, sad smile, no teeth. “There must be a reason, Ianto. Where did he get to go? I’ve saved lives before. Why am I still here? There must be a purpose. Something.”

Ianto wants to scream, _‘Us! You’re here for us!’_ but he can’t. Not when he really means, _‘Me!’_ Taking one step forward, then another, Ianto reaches out, wavers, and rests his hand on Jack’s shoulder for just a moment. It doesn’t seem like the right time to tell him about the negative rift spike that he recorded very late last night. Or that Alis Gibbon was reported missing this afternoon.

 

\- **Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain**.  
\- J.K. Rowling

 

It takes Jack and Ianto an inordinate amount of time to carry the artifact down into the hub from the SUV. Its strangely twisted shape and slippery metal surface prove difficult to handle without the aid of the escape-the-weevils-and-get-out-quickly adrenaline rush.

They drop it.

It hits the concrete floor with a loud clang and all the lights go out. Ianto, having leapt backward to save his toes from being smashed, waits for the emergency lights to come on. He jumps when he feels Jack’s hands on his waist from behind.

“We just knocked the power out,” Jack whispers at his neck.

“Yes, it would appear so. Shouldn’t the backup generator have kicked in by now?”

Jack nuzzles Ianto’s hair. “Hmm, you’d think so.”

“Have we gone into lockdown?”

“Mm, probably.”

“Why aren’t you more worried about this?”

“I am,” Jack whispers, kissing his neck. “I’m just taking a rare moment.”

“Oh.” He relaxes into Jack’s arms. “OK.”

Jack’s hands wander over and under his suit jacket and down over his stomach, lower. “That wouldn’t happen to be a torch in your pocket by any chance, would it?”

“Nope. Sorry.” Ianto turns his head to find Jack’s mouth in the dark and muffle his next retort. He trails his fingers up Jack’s arm to shoulder and up into his hair. Jack sucks Ianto’s bottom lip in, worrying it between his teeth. Ianto leans into him, head swimming. The whole world could stop when Jack is kissing him and he’d never even notice. Breathless, Ianto breaks away. “OK, we really should check that everything is still running properly. You don’t think the cells have been compromised, do you?” He feels Jack shake his head.

“Uh-uh. The locks revert to manual if the electricity fails. Although…”

“What?”

Jack takes Ianto’s hand. “No splitting up. If there’s anything loose in the hub, I don’t want… us to be separated. Come on, there should be a few torches just in here.” Jack moves through the dark, pulling Ianto along with him.

“Ow!”

“What?”

“I bashed my foot on the… thing. Stop dragging me; I’m with you.”

\---

Ianto holds a torch over the artifact so that Jack can see. They’ve managed to get the backup power on, but the low emergency lighting is too dim to work by. They’d checked all the cells and the CCTV is up and running, as well. Temporary lockdown was cancelled and an all clear sent to Gwen’s mobile.

“So, you’re saying that thing fried our computers?”

Jack is on his knees in the hub examining the metal object. “Actually, I was trying very hard _not_ to say that.” He looks up at Ianto, shielding his eyes against the torchlight. “Does it look different to you?”

“Different how?” Ianto crouches down, holding the light up to take a closer look. “It looks like a twisted, metal… thing. Same as before.”

“No, look.” Jack takes Ianto’s hand and moves it over the side of the object. “The end wasn’t smooth like this before, was it?”

Ianto maneuvers to Jack’s side, pointing the torch at their hands joined on the metal. “No. It was sort of pointed before. It changed shape? Is it alive?” With his toe, Ianto scoots the containment box they’d brought out a little closer to Jack.

“Not alive, really, but…” Jack carefully turns the object. His hand hovers over one side, searching for something. All of a sudden, its side splits apart, sort of _peels_ apart to reveal its interior. “Organic technology.” Jack grins at him in the dim light and his eyes are sparkling, so alive. “Tosh would love this.”

It takes a second, just a split-second really, for the light in Jack’s eyes to go out. Ianto turns his face away to avoid having to see it. He sweeps the light over the object, distracting himself from thinking.

Jack clears his throat. “Looks like it’s mostly burnt out inside. Bit of a shame. This sort of technology is very adaptable. We could have rigged it up to our computers. Done all sorts with it…” he trails off and when Ianto looks over, Jack is facing away. “We must have jogged something when we dropped it, but I don’t think it will do much now. Best to just store it away.” He stands abruptly, dusting off his knees and his coat. “I need to go check something.”

Ianto lights a path for him until Jack grabs the other torch and disappears into the shadowed steps to the basement. To the morgue and the cryogenics section. Ianto does his best not to think about what… _who_ Jack is going to check on.

Ianto’s hands shake as he cautiously lifts the object and places it into the box, shutting the lid and engaging the locking mechanism. Sliding it aside for now, he sets to work at Toshiko’s… the tech computer terminal. It is set up with all the computer override codes. He breathes a sigh of relief when it boots up and everything runs smoothly. He manages to reset the automatic lights and security alarms, bringing the hub back up to full power. While checking to see that no data had been lost another video message pops up.

_“Owen, stop right now. Whatever you’re doing, just stop it. Go get me. If I’m… not there, get Jack. If he’s not there, get Ianto. But Do. Not. Try this yourself. I’ve left instructions and Ianto has the security codes. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”_

Toshiko’s image fades away back into the system just like before. Ianto stares, fingers poised above the keyboard. A small, uneasy laugh escapes him. He clamps his mouth shut, biting his lip. He wipes at his eyes, but they are dry. Nodding, he gathers himself together. Right, security codes, he remembers. He logs into his own account and goes to work getting the system back online. He’s glad that neither Gwen nor Jack had been around to see that. It would have upset them. Yes, it’s much better that they hadn’t seen it.

He’s just attempting to recalibrate the rift alarm when he hears Jack’s heavy footsteps. Turning, Ianto watches him walk wearily into the room, throwing his coat over the back of the couch before falling heavily into a seat. Ianto wants to ask if everything is alright, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he says, “Rift alarm is on the blink and I’m not sure the predictor program is up, either. But everything else seems to be running fine.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighs, lifting a hand to his face and covering his eyes. “I noticed the lights. Good job, Ianto.”

He starts to turn back to the computer, saying, “I can probably get this fixed. It shouldn’t take too long; I helped Tosh a bit when she was working on it.”

“Ianto. It’s late. That can wait until tomorrow.”

He stops, but doesn’t look back at Jack. “Technically, it is tomorrow.” He tries for a light tone, but it falls flat and the awkwardness stretches out.

“Come here.”

When he looks, Jack is watching, reaching an arm out to him. Ianto stands and steps lightly over to the couch. He takes Jack’s hand, lets himself be pulled down and settles into Jack’s warmth. Sometimes Ianto wishes they could talk the way he’s sure other people must talk.

But Jack’s hands - inside his shirt, on his shoulders, pushing him back into the cushions, drawing him out, peeling him apart, seeking, comforting - speak louder than any words. Ianto tangles his fingers in Jack’s hair, in his shirt, prying the buttons open, clothing rustling, falling away until it’s just skin on skin and warm, pliant tongue and soft, yielding lips. Jack goes so slow, so gentle, taking his time, opening Ianto up.

Ragged breaths mix together with damp, salty skin and he can’t be sure if it’s sweat or tears. Jack’s hair brushes over Ianto’s lips as he hovers over him. Their eyes meet and there’s no one else and they don’t have to be quiet and quick. Jack’s hands caress Ianto’s sides and back up his arms; the bruises are mostly healed. Ianto runs his hands over Jack’s smooth skin. He is always healed up on the outside, but now Ianto can see all the damage on the inside, too, the storm behind those eyes that threatens to tear them all apart.

Wrapping his fingers around the back of Jack’s neck, Ianto pulls him down. Their lips meet and he feels Jack push inside and oh- Oh, God. He squeezes his eyes shut, arching his back into the hard body above him. Jack says his name, voice husky, a strangled, “Ianto,” over and over. And they are beyond words.

Jack falls asleep half on top of Ianto, an arm and a leg draped over him, holding him close on the narrow couch. He pulls Jack’s coat over them, senses dulled, too content to move.

The sound of the door rolling open and shut wakes Ianto; he isn’t sure how long he must have slept and he doesn’t open his eyes until he hears-

“Jack! Jack, I- Oh.”

Looking up from beneath Jack on the couch, Ianto smiles at Gwen. “Good morning.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” She laughs, turning her head as Jack moves, dislodging the coat. “Can’t you two ever do it in a bed?”

Face burning, despite his best attempts, Ianto grabs for the coat before it falls completely away.

Jack laughs, levering himself up into a sitting position. “A bed? Never get Ianto to agree to such a wild idea.” He reaches out, but Ianto slaps his hand away, not unkindly. Grinning, Jack looks up and says, “Didn’t expect you in today, Gwen. Shouldn’t you be home resting?”

“I feel fine,” she says, face still turned away. “Rhys had to go into work this morning, so I wanted to talk to you.”

Ianto pulls Jack’s coat on, holding it closed around his body. “Excuse me, I’m going to get washed and dressed.” He glares at Jack, but can’t keep the smile off his face, gathering up most of his own clothes as he heads up to Jack’s office and the hatch to his room.

“Hey!” Jack calls after him, “You took my coat, what am I supposed to do?”

“Like you’ve ever had a problem walking around naked.”

“It’s cold in here!”

As Ianto disappears down the ladder he catches a glimpse of Gwen tossing something at Jack and hears her cry, “Put some pants on!”

 

\- **If you’re never scared or embarrassed or hurt, it means you never take any chances**.  
\- Julia Sorel

 

The duct tape catches and pulls the little hairs at the back of Ianto’s neck; Jack’s bound wrists resting there as his fingernails scratch through Ianto’s hair and into his scalp. Ianto thrusts his hips slowly and Jack’s thighs squeeze his sides tighter. With the very tip of his tongue, Ianto traces a trail up Jack’s chest to his throat, jaw, and the silky fabric of his tie tight against Jack’s cheek. Ianto pokes his tongue at the material in Jack’s mouth feeling an answering poke from within and a soft whimper escapes.

“You’re drooling all over my tie. The mirror is still-” Ianto gasps, thrusts in, “sticky. And your coat-” Another thrust. “Covered in blood. Will take- Oh… Take a lot to get it mended.” Biting the tie between his teeth, Jack digs his heels into Ianto’s arse, but Ianto refuses to be hurried. “You never think of the- Ahh… Consequences, do you?”

The desktop beneath Jack is slippery with his sweat and makes a slick, squeaky sound with each movement. Ianto rests his elbows on either side of Jack’s body, sucking at his lower lip, scraping teeth against silk and skin. Jack’s legs are wrapped around him, drawing him in, holding him there. Jack around him, always around him. Jack there and alive and they all could have died a few days ago and Jack _had_ died and this is the only way he can cope. _This_ is the only way to feel alive again, to make sure they’re still here. This is what he has.

Gwen is going off to Paris with Rhys; she gets a break for real life. And Tosh, she’s out there trying to have one of those lives everyone is always talking about. She’s told Ianto that she’s been to see more crappy films in the past month than in her entire life, but she’s out there. She’s getting on.

And Owen… Owen is the same as ever, as if the last few weeks or months hadn’t happened and everything in his world is back to where it started. Which is why Jack and Ianto are so surprised that he is still in the hub at well past midnight on a Saturday night.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Ung?” Jack turns his head toward the voice, his legs gripping Ianto’s waist even more tightly to prevent him from moving away. Hastily, Ianto reaches up to pull the gag from Jack’s mouth to let him speak. “Owen, what are you still doing here?”

Ianto risks a glance at the door. Owen is standing there with his back to them, waving a file folder in his hand. “Just wanted to let you know I finished the autopsy on Bet- uh, the sleeper agent. I’m just going to leave this here.” He drops the file onto the floor by the door and stalks out. A few seconds later they hear the hub door roll open and shut.

“You said everyone had gone home,” Ianto growls into Jack’s neck.

“I saw Tosh leave; I assumed she was the last. She usually is.”

Ianto scrapes his teeth over Jack’s shoulder and realizes he’d started rocking his hips again almost immediately after he’d stopped. “You realize this means that Gwen is the only one who hasn’t walked in on us?”

“We could call her up now and get it out of the way.” Jack laughs, breathlessly, as Ianto bites down on his shoulder. “And, technically, Tosh didn’t walk in on us. She just happened to find the CCTV footage.”

“Which you said you’d taken care of.”

“Oops?”

“Exactly what I was talking about, Jack.” Ianto slips his head out of the circle of Jack’s bound arms and stands up, grabbing Jack by the hips and yanking him forward. “Consequences.”

 

\- **They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself**.  
\- Andy Warhol

 

Clean and in a fresh suit, Ianto climbs the ladder up into Jack’s office, lowering the hatch behind him. He follows the voices to the boardroom and finds Jack and Gwen staring at each other from opposite sides of the table. He’s glad to see that Jack managed to get washed up and dressed, as well. “Is there a situation?”

Jack waves a hand in Gwen’s direction, his mouth set in a thin line, but doesn’t say anything. Gwen turns to Ianto, “I want a funeral.”

“Right.” Ianto nods, once. “We’re going to need coffee.”

He returns to the boardroom’s stony silence with three mugs and a plate of biscuits. Taking his seat, oh-so-conveniently located between them, he slides the plate over to Gwen. “They’re your favorites.” She smiles at him and takes a biscuit. Jack crosses his arms, looking affronted until Ianto slides the plate his way, too. Clearing his throat, Ianto takes a sip of his coffee then sets the mug down, gently, in front of him. “So… We were talking about… funerals?” He’s wondering if it will be just a Torchwood affair, meaning the three of them, or if families will be involved. He’d had to give the news of Owen’s death to his mother and is not looking forward to reliving that experience. His mental process is cut short by Gwen.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Rhys.”

“Funerals!” Jack clunks his coffee mug down onto the table. “This is what you and Rhys talk about? I send you home to recover and _that’s_ what he wants to discuss?”

“Of course not!” Gwen slaps her open palms against the tabletop. “I was too busy reassuring him that I was fine and that it was just a fluke thing that wouldn’t happen again and… It’s going to happen again, Jack. These things are just going to keep happening, aren’t they?”

“What do you want, Gwen. A guarantee? All will be safe for all time?”

“I want an insurance policy. I want to know that Rhys will be all right. And that he won’t be kept in the dark when I-”

“I’m sorry,” Ianto interrupts, “what are we talking about?”

Gwen takes a deep breath. “I want a funeral. When I go, I want a funeral. For Rhys and he can do it any way he likes. No, Jack.” She holds up a hand. “It’s not fair to him to be kept in the dark anymore. He already knows what we do here. Are you just going to lie to him after I’m gone?” Her eyes go wide. “You _will_ not ret-con him after I’m gone, Jack Harkness!”

“Gwen, you know procedure-”

“Oh, fuck procedure, Jack! The rules are wrong!”

They both look at Ianto. He is frozen, biscuit halfway to his lips. With a sigh, he sets it down on a napkin next to his coffee mug. “You know, with three people it’s not fair. I always have to be the tie-breaker.”

Gwen stands, leaning forward over the table, staring Jack down. “I’m sure Ianto understands. He wouldn’t want his loved ones to go on wondering what happened if he just disappeared one day.” She freezes, a silent gasp. Her eyes, huge and wet, turn to him. “Oh, Ianto, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s alright, Gwen.” He offers her a tiny smile; his eyes flicker fleetingly to her face and down again. He chances a look at Jack, but can’t hold his gaze, either. Clearing his throat, Ianto says, “I do understand where you’re coming from, Gwen. It’s worth discussing, I think. Jack…”

Gwen’s mobile buzzes in her pocket. Glancing at the ID, she says, “It’s Rhys,” and walks away into a corner to speak with him. “Hello, love. No, I’m fine. No, he didn’t call me in, I just wanted to check on some things. I _am_ taking it easy. I’m lying in a hammock while Ianto brings me tropical drinks.” She glances at Ianto, and he winks at her, before turning back and lowering her voice.

Jack grins at him, saying, “Now _that_ sounds like a good idea. Ianto, what are your thoughts on hammocks?”

“I don’t like that diamond pattern imprinted all over my skin from the rope.” He keeps his face neutral, but the smile is just below the surface. Jack’s hand covers his on the table and squeezes, just once.

Gwen’s voice gets louder again. “No, you don’t have to leave work early. I’m fine, really. We’re just… catching up on paperwork. Yep, lots of paperwork, can never outrun it. Alright, bye, love you.” She pockets her mobile and turns back to face the table, but does not resume her seat. “Jack,” she says, so softly, eyes huge, and she’s no longer demanding this of him, but begging.

A shrill sound in the hub slices through the silence. Ianto starts to stand, but stops himself, realizing what it is. “Gwen, that’s your direct line.”

“What? Oh, right. It’s probably the head of the new safety unit for the police. I promised I’d help them set something up for dealing with future… terrorist attacks.” She glances at Jack.

He waves her off to deal with it. “Later, Gwen, that’s more important.” When she doesn’t move, Jack sighs. “Take care of that first.”

Finally she recedes from the room and hurries to her station. Ianto picks up a discarded newspaper from the table and opens it up to a random page. He sips his coffee and waits. He feels Jack’s eyes on him, studying him. But if the Captain, his boss, has anything to say, he doesn’t show it.

 

\- **The main thing history can teach us is that human actions have consequences and that certain choices, once made, cannot be undone. They foreclose the possibility of making other choices and thus they determine future events**.  
\- Gerda Lerner

 

As the door rolls open, Ianto rushes out of the Captain’s office, remembering to stash the files in his suit jacket as they enter. He offers to assist, but Dr. Harper shoves him away, propping an injured Toshiko up and taking her down into the med bay.

Suzie storms past, carrying a large containment box and muttering, “Brilliant, aren’t they? How many times do we have to say don’t touch anything?”

Jack enters last, his coat still on, closed up to the neck. He wipes his hands on a filthy towel. “Suzie, I want diagnostics on that thing ASAP. Tosh, I… Where’s Tosh?”

“Down here, Jack,” she calls up.

Owen yells, “I think she might have a fractured wrist. Going to need to X-ray.”

“Right, when you’re done there, I need you and Suzie to get the alien corpse out of the SUV. You’ll do the autopsy tomorrow. Unless Tosh needs to go to hospital?”

“It really doesn’t hurt that much,” Ianto hears Toshiko say in her soft, quiet voice. He can’t make out Owen’s response beyond some sort of grunt.

“Helluva first day eh, Jones, Ianto Jones?” Jack steps up beside him.

Ianto keeps himself from jumping. Calmly, he turns and offers a tiny smile. “You _can_ just call me Ianto, sir.”

“And you _can_ just call me Jack.” He watches Ianto closely, as though waiting for the blush that never quite manifests. “And good work today on backup. Rushing out of the SUV and getting those bumbling police out of the way was great. Not to mention the way you swooped in and grabbed Tosh like that. So heroic.” Jack leers.

At this, Ianto looks away, hoping his face does not betray him. “I didn’t actually do much. You chased and caught it all by yourself. Wouldn’t let anyone help you.” He looks up into Jack’s… the _Captain’s_ eyes.

“Did you get those files I asked for?”

“They’re in your office, sir. Although, while I was down there, I noticed a certain… complete lack of organization.” He holds eye contact as long as possible. “I thought, if you’d like, I could maybe do some work down there. Setting up a filing system. We’d be able to find things more quickly and easily. It was part of my job before, after all.”

Jack stares for a long few seconds. “Sure. Sounds like a good idea. Just keep me informed of the new system. I’ll tell the others not to go traipsing down there and messing it up while you’re working. If they need anything, they can ask.” He starts to move away, but stops. “Ianto. You did good work today.”

Coloring slightly, Ianto stutters, “Thank you, sir. I…”

“Don’t tell me.” Jack’s voice suddenly takes on that hard edge Ianto’s only heard twice before today. “Torchwood London would have done it better.”

Surprised, Ianto looks him right in the eye. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they’d only have made it worse. There’d just be less people that know about it in the end.”

Immediately, the Captain softens, that smile transforming his face. Adopting a lazy drawl, as though he doesn’t care, he asks, “You think people should know about us? You think they’re ready for that?”

Blinking rapidly, Ianto squares his shoulders. “Whether the human race should or should not know about what we do here, about what’s out there, is really not my place to judge, sir.” More quietly, he says, “My personal opinion is that people are never fully prepared for change when it comes, but it comes none the less. I do believe that when we make mistakes, we should learn from them. Those mistakes are only repeated when we can’t remember the lesson.”

Suddenly Jack’s hand is on his arm and those blue eyes are staring through him. “Are you alright?”

Ianto backs away, breaking the contact. He clears his throat, looks at the buttons of the Captain’s coat. The lapels have come away to reveal dark, sticky blood and the tattered remains of the blue shirt beneath. “You’ll want to get cleaned up, sir. Before the others see.”

 

\- **To know that one knows what one knows, and to know that one doesn't know what one doesn't know, there lies true wisdom**.  
\- Confucius

 

A few months in and Ianto has learned several new things about Captain Jack Harkness. He talks and talks but hardly ever says anything. He makes the most pornographic noises when drinking Ianto’s coffee. Of course, he makes some of the same noises when examining alien tech, too. He knows how to tell a story so that his audience forgets how ridiculous it sounds and just enjoys the warmth of Jack’s voice and the enveloping laughter. He projects a false sense of calm and protection, making them all feel like they belong to him. All the things Ianto had read about him in London do not even come close to the man in real life. Jack is a façade and Ianto does not try to see what is behind it. It would not do to start looking too closely.

Ianto has learned that sometimes he likes Jack. Sometimes he _wants_ to like Jack. In another life, in other circumstances, Ianto believes they could have been friends. True friends. The twisting knots in the pit of Ianto’s stomach gnaw at him every time he has to lie, every time he has to look into Jack’s eyes and remember that this is all for _her_.

“Ianto! Just the man I was looking for.”

“Sir?” He stops in his tracks, Jack’s coffee in hand, and changes trajectory from Jack’s office to the boardroom. He is surprised to find Owen and Toshiko in so early. “Where is Suzie?”

Jack waves a dismissive hand, though his grin looks forced. “She’s busy researching the metal of that glove thing we found. I told her to take the day off. Today is a special day.”

Ianto looks around the room at the three of them. “I didn’t realize the others were in so early, sir. You look nice today, Toshiko.” She blushes and thanks him, while Owen snorts into his hand. Ianto ignores him. “I’ll just make some more coffee, then.”

“That can wait.” Jack jumps up from his seat, practically bounding out of the boardroom, the others following quickly. Ianto has also learned that Jack likes to spring things on people without warning. “Ianto Jones, meet Tommy,” Jack says once they’ve reached the cryo-chambers.

A frozen soldier in a box. London had stranger things. Jack asks Ianto to record Tommy’s revival while Owen works and Toshiko stands by, explaining Tommy’s origins and importance. “He’s going to save… time?” Ianto asks, after Tommy has decked Owen upon awakening. The others have moved into the boardroom for a large brunch.

Jack is being unusually helpful, carrying things for Ianto from the kitchen. “Yep,” he replies with a grin.

“And you don’t know when it will happen or what he’ll be needed for.”

“Nope.” Jack shakes his head, arms full as they walk back through the hub.

“And this was in nineteen-eighteen?” Ianto stops, turning to Jack. “Where were you, sir?”

Jack’s face is sometimes like stone. “Where he would have been.”

Before Ianto can puzzle that out and think of a response, Jack has already gone past him and up to the boardroom. Ianto hurries with his pot of tea and tray of food.

When he enters, Owen is scowling, rubbing his jaw. “Every fucking time.”

Tommy, shoveling a forkful into his mouth, says, “Sorry ‘bout that, mate. At least we know my reflexes are still good.” He grins up at Ianto as he pours a cup of tea. “You’re new.”

There’s a loud squawk out in the main area of the hub, a flutter of wings and a loud crash.

“So’s that!” Tommy’s fork clatters to his plate as he races over to the door and the stairway, stopping on the balcony. The others file out after him.

Ianto glances at Jack. “Suzie usually feeds it, but I can take care of it, sir. I’ve been doing it the last couple of nights.”

“You have?” Jack lifts an eyebrow at him and hurries after.

Tommy is leaning over the railing, with a huge grin on his face. “You’ve got a bloody dinosaur! Was it frozen, too?”

“No, she sort of,” Jack shrugs, hands in his pockets, “crash landed here in the wrong time, just a few months ago. She’s harmless, mostly.”

“Tell that to the sheep,” Owen grumbles.

Jack elbows him, but smiles at Tommy. “We’re working on training her. She’s pretty good about not eating things she shouldn’t.” The pterodactyl squawks again, loudly. Jack grins, laughing. “That’s my girl.”

“So, it’s like a pet? What do you call it?”

“I hadn’t thought of that!” Toshiko beams at Tommy, her whole face shining with life. “We should give it a name.”

Owen crosses his arms over his chest and leans back away from the railing. “How ‘bout Rover.”

“It’s a pterodactyl not a big balloon,” Ianto says, stepping out into the hub beneath them, carrying a large tub and wearing heavy, plastic gloves. “And it’s female, apparently.” He warily stays clear of the pterodactyl, working his way near the water tower to set her food out and cover it with the special sauce.

“Ianto, you should name her,” Jack calls from his place on the balcony, looking down over the hub. “Give her a good, strong Welsh name.”

He glances up at Jack’s blinding grin then quickly looks away.

Later that evening, Ianto passes Toshiko and she is quiet, more subdued than normal. It’s late and the lights are dimming. Owen is making clanging noises in the med bay. Tosh is staring blankly at her computer screen, but she offers Ianto a wan smile as he hands her a cup of tea. He bypasses the med bay and heads up to the conference room.

“So, he just crawls back into his drawer for another year until the world needs him?” Ianto asks, handing the last cup of the day to Jack. They stand together at the window overlooking the hub, watching as Owen gathers his stuff together before leaving for the night. He stops by Toshiko’s chair, places a hand on her shoulder and leans down to whisper something in her ear. She looks up into his face, nods, grabs her coat and follows him out of the hub.

Jack is stiff, his back ramrod straight, one hand tucked into his armpit and the other holding out his coffee. “I wasn’t here when they took Tommy,” he says, slowly. “I don’t know the details. Just that we will be depending on him. It’s one soldier or the whole universe, Ianto. Lousy choices all around, but…” Jack lets his breath out slowly, eyes staring out into the darkening hub.

Ianto studies his profile. The light behind casts Jack’s features into harsh, exaggerated shadows. The lights below them send his shadow up onto the ceiling, towering over them. He is a statue, made of hard granite or maybe swirling marble. He looks so very lonely. “Myfanwy,” Ianto says, suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Jack turns his head, the shadows evaporating, leaving his face smooth and clear.

“For the pterodactyl, sir. Myfanwy. It’s a good Welsh name.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jack nods, smiling. “Why that one?”

Ianto shrugs, looking away, down into the hub. “You’re always calling her, ‘my girl.’ It was the closest I could think of.” He feels Jack’s large, warm hand on his shoulder for a brief moment and the touch seeps into his skin, tingling all over.

Sometimes, Ianto thinks he might even _understand_ Jack. But Jack still terrifies him.

 

\- **Consciously or unconsciously we all strive to make the kind of a world we like**.  
\- Oliver Wendell Holmes

 

“Stop that,” Ianto says, without looking up. He’s quietly drinking his coffee and reading the paper.

Jack grins and removes his hand from Ianto’s thigh. They can hear Gwen on the phone still. She’s using her _‘I’m very calmly trying to understand you, but if you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m going to scream’_ voice. Jack is glad they have her to deal with these things. She’s good at it.

He looks again at Ianto, studies his profile. Smooth brow, pursed lips, slightly upturned nose. He hasn’t shaved this morning and there’s a light dust of stubble along his jaw. He hardly ever talks about family. Passing comments, but nothing more. Jack knows the story, but Ianto doesn’t like to talk about it. He must be tuned into Jack’s thoughts, because he looks up with inquiring eyes.

“Are you OK?” Jack asks, softly.

Ianto seems to know what he means, because he smiles and simply says, “Yes. Fine.”

“You think she had a point?”

Ianto glances out of the corner of his eye toward the door. He very methodically folds the newspaper up and lays it on the table before him. “I think _you_ think she had a point. Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking.”

Jack nods his head slowly. Ianto always does that. “You didn’t answer the question.”

With a sigh, Ianto leans forward on his elbows. “Yes, I think she has a point. I also think that you already know all of what I’m about to tell you, but you want someone else to say it first.”

Jack sits back in his chair, one eyebrow raised, and makes the universal hand-gesture for ‘go on.’

Abruptly, as though nervous, Ianto averts his eyes, looking at the table, out the window, anywhere but at Jack. He fidgets with the edge of the newspaper until finally his hands come to rest around his mug of coffee. “Why did you hire Gwen?” When he looks up, Jack simply frowns at him. Ianto rolls his eyes, exhales slowly, and continues. “You never wanted to be part of Torchwood, Jack. You were… basically forced into it, isn’t that right?”

Slowly nodding his head, Jack says, “Yeah. More or less. You-”

“It was in the London file, but there weren’t any details, really. Just how you were… _contracted_ because of your… knowledge.” Ianto looks up from beneath his eyelashes, a sheepish smile on his face. “The file on you was huge and… I… Well, I may have spent a lot of time going through it. You fascinated me before I even met you.” He looks down, but Jack doesn’t miss the faint blush rising on his cheeks.

Jack is almost stunned speechless by Ianto’s admission. Keeping his pretense of casual control, he kicks his feet up onto the table, tipping his chair onto its back legs. “I assume you’re going somewhere with this.”

“You never wanted to be here. You certainly never planned on being here permanently. Everyone that you recruited was supposed to… I don’t know. Take over for you?” Ianto’s forehead wrinkles in question.

Jack puts his feet back on the floor and leans forward again. “Yeah, that was sort of the plan, I guess.” He looks away to the side, muttering, “Didn’t really pan out the way I’d hoped.”

“No, guess not. But it wasn’t all pointless, Jack. You set out to make changes and you did. You made a better Torchwood. Or you tried, at least.” Ianto leans forward and taps the tabletop with his index finger. “But you knew it was missing something.”

“Gwen,” Jack says, softly.

“You needed her because she forces you to reexamine the way we handle things. The way _you_ handle things. Gwen is the change you were waiting for.”

“Jack?”

He turns at the sound of her voice to see Gwen framed in the doorway, but she is smiling over at Ianto. Jack crosses his arms over his chest. “You know, it’s not fair if you two are just going to gang up on me. Unless you want to get physical-” Gwen slaps one shoulder and Ianto hits the other. “Ow.”

She resumes her seat across from Jack. “This is the time Earth becomes aware of aliens, right? You’re always saying that the 21st Century is when everything changes. How do we know that change isn’t you?” she asks, staring straight into him. “Change things, Jack.”

“Jack, you can make any kind of Torchwood that you like.”

Gwen and Ianto, each in their own way, have challenged him from the start.

 

\- **All too often arrogance accompanies strength, and we must never assume that justice is on the side of the strong. The use of power must always be accompanied by moral choice**.  
\- Theodore Bikel

 

Wiping the thick, viscous blood off his face, Jack sighs. Toshiko is staring wide-eyed with her hands covering her mouth. At least she isn’t glowing bright magenta with alien blood. Suzie is behind her checking the computers. Jack asks, “Did we get what we needed?”

“Pretty much,” Suzie answers, without looking up. “They have a base of some sort just to the north of here. Owen and I can probably handle it, Jack.”

“No. We’ll all go. Tosh?” He puts a hand on her arm, accidentally smearing magenta over her white blouse. “You alright?”

She nods, absently. “It’s not supposed to do that, is it?”

“No.” Jack grimaces, turning to Owen.

“There were no indicators. It was still safe.” A second later, he adds, “According to the monitors. This species just reacted badly.” Owen flicks off all the monitoring equipment attached to the mind-probe. “Next time, we’ll just have to account for variables in different species.”

“Right. Everyone, gear up. Owen, get the SUV ready.” He tosses the keys over and the others move to the door. “Let’s see if we can persuade them to kindly leave Earth now.” Jack strides forward, slipping and squelching in the blood covering the floor, muttering, “If not, there’ll be no point in changing my clothes. Ianto!”

“Yes, sir?”

Jack starts, still not accustomed to that man always appearing out of nowhere. “Uh, yeah. We’re heading out to take care of our purple friends. Do you think you can…”

“I’ll get this all cleared up, sir.” His eyes flick to the door rolling back into place as the rest of the team hurry upstairs. He takes a step forward, closer to Jack but avoiding the spreading puddle. “Can I ask you something, sir?”

“You’ve been here a month, Ianto. You know you can ask me anything.” Jack shoots him his most charming smile, but Ianto’s face remains expressionless. “What is it?”

Ianto’s eyes flick to the glowing, magenta mess on the floor and up to the slumped body of their prisoner. “It was always said, back in London.” He brings his eyes up to meet Jack’s. “How Torchwood Three had gone renegade, with their rogue, mysterious leader. People laughed about it, about _Cardiff_ , like it didn’t matter. London had cut you off. It was somewhat of a joke to them, I think.” He swallows, brow wrinkling. “But you told me _you’d_ severed all ties. That you weren’t anything like them.” Ianto takes a step forward and Jack almost takes a step back. Waving his hand, Ianto gestures to the _corpse_ in the chair. “The scene I just witnessed? How is that any different from London, sir?”

A large glop of blood dribbles down Jack’s neck into the collar of his shirt and he reaches a hand up to wipe it away. He looks at the dead alien and back to Ianto. “After you get this cleaned up, you can go on home, Ianto. It’s late. Unless…” He steps forward, deliberately, smearing more blood on the floor. “Earlier you said you wanted to talk to me about something? It was to do with Canary Wharf, wasn’t it?”

Ianto blinks, twice. He looks between the blood, the alien and Jack. “No, sir. It wasn’t important. I’ll have some coffee ready for when you get back.”

Jack watches as Ianto begins mopping up the puddle of blood, taking care to keep his own shoes and suit spotless. Jack’s Torchwood is not Torchwood London. It is not even Torchwood Cardiff. But he’d never wanted to be in charge, anyway.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

\- **Hardware: the parts of a computer that can be kicked**.  
\- Jeff Pesis

 

Jack stands in the middle of the hub, hands on hips. Watching. Gwen is on the phone _liaising_ with various organizations involved in rebuilding the city. He’s promised to discuss her… rather morbid request later. But not _too much_ later. Not too late. He really wishes his friends would stop reminding him how fragile they are. He really wishes he could just hand the reins over and give up all the responsibility. But he’s not sure he could do that. Not yet. Not when they need him. Not when he still needs them.

The rift alarm must have shorted out when the computers went down. Ianto’s been trying to hook it back up, but the mainframe keeps blocking him. Jack had already taken a crack at it and it had electrocuted him. He thinks it did it on purpose. After cleaning himself up, _again_ , and tossing his burnt clothes into a bin bag, he’d found Ianto under Tosh’s desk, muttering a string of swear words to himself, including a few that were even new to Jack. He’d tried to offer help, but Ianto had barely acknowledged him, brushing him off with a grunt and something that sounded suspiciously like, _“Be nice if you could manage not to get yourself killed for at least a few hours at a time.”_

He peers over Ianto’s shoulder for the fourth or fifth time. “Haven’t you got that running yet?”

“You know, I’d work faster if you weren’t hovering over me, breathing down my neck.” Sitting on the floor, surrounded by wires, Ianto runs his finger down a page, eyes narrowed at the tiny print. Toshiko’s re-boot program and instructions won’t load, either. It’s a good thing that Ianto likes to make hard copies of everything. “I’m trying my best, Jack, but this isn’t my area of expertise. You know that Tosh always-” He stops suddenly, lips pressed into a thin line and fists clenched. “Fuck.” Ianto throws his tools down on the ground and storms away toward the steps to the basement.

Startled by the outburst, Gwen looks up from her own work. She starts to follow him, but Jack stops her with a hand on her arm. “Let him go,” he says, soft but firm.

“He doesn’t have to do this alone, Jack. We can’t just-”

“Leave him be, Gwen. He won’t appreciate it right now if you go down there and coddle him. Give him space to let it out in private. I’ll take care of him later.”

“But-” She turns to him and he shakes his head at her.

“He likes to do this on his own.”

“Alright,” she huffs in exasperation. Her hands drop to her sides and she walks away, back to her station.

Glancing in her direction only once or twice, Jack stares at the empty doorway.

\---

Ianto flips the switch by the door and the single, swinging bulb illuminates the dank and crowded little room. He picks up where he left off last time he was down here; third cabinet from the right, fourth drawer down. He’s been working here for nearly two years and in all that time he still hasn’t finished reorganizing all the files. To be fair, every time he gets to the point of _‘almost there, not much more to go’_ something major happens and when he gets back around to it someone has come down to mess it all up again.

Ianto supposes, since it was usually Owen, that won’t be happening anymore. Perhaps he’ll actually finish this before he dies. He wipes his sleeve across his eyes and stifles a sob. Two years ago, Ianto Jones hadn’t even known Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper. One year ago, he’d never have thought he’d miss them so much.

 

\- **Take away everything that feels fine. Catch a shape in the circles of my mind. Make me feel like I belong to you. Make me feel it, even if it ain't true**.  
\- Mazzy Star, I’ve Been Let Down

 

It’s easy with Suzie; she hardly notices his presence. She seems to keep herself distant from everyone, except maybe Jack, and that suits Ianto just fine. He finds her slightly creepy on the best of days.

Owen is rather hit or miss on a day to day basis. He’s almost always surly and he likes to lord his position over Ianto as often as possible, but some days Owen simply ignores him. If Owen had been a customer in one of the many pubs or coffee houses that Ianto had worked in over the years, he might be tempted to spit in Owen’s drink. But Ianto’s not that petty. And he really doesn’t care that much. Owen can think he’s better than Ianto. It won’t matter soon enough, anyway. She’ll be better and they can leave.

Toshiko is far too nice for her own good and Ianto finds himself drawn to her. She includes him. She asks his opinion as if it really matters. She tries to explain her work to him and he sort of understands but when he gets lost, she doesn’t seem to notice and that’s alright, too. She doesn’t ask about his personal life and doesn’t talk about hers, either. It’s still just work.

Jack is the hardest of them all. He is always everywhere at once. He talks and touches and laughs like he is everyone’s best friend. He treats them all with an ease and grace that is so practiced it’s hard to see the invisible line he’s drawn around himself. There is a wall between Jack and the rest of the world. Ianto has learned from this.

They are not his friends. They can’t be.

“Good morning, Toshiko.” Ianto sets her mug of hot coffee down on the desk, far away from all the equipment.

“Oh, thank you, Ianto.” She smiles up at him, taking a sip and closing her eyes.

She looks… different this morning. Her hair is pulled back into a sophisticated twist, leaving a thin, dark tendril hanging down in front. She is wearing a crimson blouse over a black camisole, visible due to the open top two buttons. It’s a much more… daring look than Toshiko usually goes for at work. Or outside of it, as far as Ianto knows.

Perhaps it was a gift. Did she spend the holidays with family? She hadn’t been at the hub on Christmas day. No one had. Ianto had had to sneak in just to be with Lisa after Jack had disappeared off to wherever it is Jack goes. The others had all left early the day before, off to celebrate together or with friends, perhaps. Ianto is glad they hadn’t asked him to go. He’s been here nearly three months now and they still never ask him. It would have been awkward, anyway. Even though the conversation would have been welcome. Lisa is always in so much pain, he hates to even wake her up. She asks him how much longer, crying, and he can hardly bear it, just sitting with her.

Busily tidying up, distracting himself, Ianto asks, “Did you have a nice Christmas?”

Toshiko hums pleasantly, smiling. “Oh, yes. It was… very nice, actually. What about you?”

“Fine, thank you. Do you have New Year’s plans?”

Toshiko shrugs, biting her lip in a cute, almost bashful way. “I’m not sure, yet. Maybe. You?”

“Oh, I think just a quiet night in,” he tells her, looking away as the door rolls open, expecting, half-hoping, it to be Jack. He can slip into conversation so easily with Jack and actually let his mind rest.

Owen staggers in wearing his leather coat and dark glasses. It’s a wonder he doesn’t walk right into the wall as he grumbles past them.

“Good morning, Owen,” Toshiko says, brightly, rising from her seat.

Owen groans, “Dial it down a bit, Tosh. My head is killing me.”

“I’ve got some painkillers-”

“Nah, it’s OK.” Owen waves her off and turns to Ianto. “Coffee’d be good, though,” he mumbles, before disappearing down to the autopsy bay.

Suzie appears almost out of nowhere, calling out, “Has anyone seen Jack?”

Startled, Ianto nearly jumps. He hadn’t known she was here and wonders where exactly she’d just come from. Straightening his tie, reflexively, Ianto tells her, “He went out early this morning, but didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back. I can probably reach him on his comm if it’s important.”

“No, that’s fine, it can wait.” Suzie walks past him to her work area, with a brief glance at the autopsy bay.

Ianto assumes that she and Owen are on another off-patch of their on-off thing, only evidenced by the fact that the two have stopped disappearing on mysterious errands at the same time. He turns toward the kitchen to make Owen’s coffee and probably one for Suzie, as well. Stopping, he turns back to Toshiko to ask, “Would you like anything else?”

“Hmm?” she replies, distractedly, staring off toward the autopsy bay. She snaps back, eyes to Ianto. “No. Ianto? What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

“I…” he stumbles. The same promise he’s been making to himself and Lisa every day for the last five and a half months. “I don’t know. Haven’t given it much thought. What about you?”

She shrugs, turning away. “I might skip that little tradition. I don’t think it’s a good way to start a new year by breaking a promise to yourself.”

 

\- **All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on**.  
\- Havelock Ellis

 

As the hub door rolls open, Ianto brusquely disentangles himself from Jack. Hastily buttoning his waistcoat, he hurries down the steps to the kitchen, ignoring Jack’s laughter. Ianto stops short at the sight before him.

A loud whistle echoes off the walls and Jack comes bounding down the steps. He reaches an arm out and says, “Miss Toshiko Sato, you look absolutely stunning this morning. May I?”

Blushing a light shade of pink, Tosh accepts Jack’s hand and allows herself to be pulled in and twirled around in the small space. Jack flips his wrist strap open, taps a few buttons and the hub is filled with music, something slow and sensual. He spins her out and she drops her handbag on a chair before whirling back into him. Jack presses her close, moving to the music, resting his cheek atop her hair. Ianto leans against the wall and watches their graceful dance culminate with the swelling music in a fast dip. Tosh laughs, her hair sweeping back and nearly brushing the floor. Ianto applauds as Jack swings her back up and together they take a bow.

“Oi! What’s going on in here?” Owen slips in through the door, letting it roll shut behind him. He stomps up the few steps to where the rest of them are standing.

The music changes to another song and Jack holds a hand out to him. “Care to dance, Owen?”

“Shove off,” Owen grumbles, pushing his way past Jack. His eyes follow Toshiko, still laughing as she fixes her hair.

Jack takes her hand again, grinning. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”

“I’ve got work to do,” she says, playfully pushing at his shoulder.

“M’lady is not dressed for slaving away at her computer,” Jack proclaims, clasping her hand to his chest and placing his other hand on her hip. “We’re good. We should go on tour.”

“You can put on quite a show,” Ianto says, smiling at them.

Toshiko raises her eyebrows at him, a wicked smirk on her face. “Speaking of putting on a show…” Abruptly, Jack spins her, twirling her out toward Ianto. “Jack!”

“I believe my good man Ianto can take it from here,” Jack says, sending him a wink before turning and walking into his office.

Ianto offers his hand and a smile. “Coffee?”

Taking his hand, she says, “Of course.” They walk past Owen, ignoring his eye roll, but Ianto doesn’t miss the way he watches Toshiko as they pass by. In the kitchen, she hands Ianto each mug as he makes the coffee. She touches a blue crystal vase, filled to the brim with coffee beans. “What’s this?”

Glancing at her, Ianto quickly looks away. “Jack’s idea of a joke, I think.”

She hmm’s, nodding. “Because you don’t like flowers.” Clearing her throat, she looks up at him timidly, contrasting with the air of confidence she’d walked in with. “I… I hadn’t realized that you and Jack were… well… again.” She blushes deeper. “Your shirt is untucked and you’ve both been very lax about cleaning up the CCTV footage the last couple of weeks.”

“I…uh…” Ianto stutters, his blush matching hers as he quickly tucks his shirttail back in and readjusts his waistcoat. He keeps his eyes down, focused on his hands, steadying. “It’s all… sort of new,” he says finally, quietly, glancing up at her. “He’s different.”

Tosh leans back against the worktop, resting on her elbow. “I’ve noticed.” She nudges him, slightly. “You’re looking happy, too. It’s good to see.”

His face burns, but his smile widens. Handing Tosh her fresh cup, he says, “You’re looking rather gorgeous yourself, today. Special occasion?”

“Yeah.” She squares her shoulders and stands up straight. “I’ve decided that life is to be lived.” Shrugging, she looks down at her feet, hair falling across her face. “It sounds trite-”

“No, not at all.” Ianto reaches up and tucks that lock of hair behind her ear.

“He saw something in me, Ianto. I want to live up to that.”

“You do. Tommy knew you were amazing.” He bends down to whisper in her ear, “A certain other person needs to work for it.”

 

\- **No. Men should die for lies. But the truth is too precious to die for**.  
\- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

 

Confused, Ianto follows Owen down to the med bay. Gwen is still on her honeymoon and Tosh has gone home. Jack is in his office, being Jack. Ianto stops short when Owen unbuttons his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders, and hops up onto the table. “What-”

“Thought that spackle idea was pretty good.” Owen points to a box on the counter behind Ianto and asks, “D’you think you could?”

“Um…” Ianto opens up the box and peers inside. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“It’s just… here.” Owen takes the box and shows Ianto how to use the materials inside. “I just want it patched up. It doesn’t have to be perfect just… flexible. I’m sick of having a hole in my chest.” Owen pokes at the hole, disgustedly, and mutters, “It’s been there too long.”

Ianto avoids his eyes, picking up the kit, and says, “Plus, it’s kind of gross to look at.” Trying not to think too hard about what he’s doing, Ianto works at sealing up and disguising the gunshot wound on Owen’s chest. He applies the color with a soft paintbrush, wondering if it tickles, but, of course, it doesn’t, because Owen can’t feel anything anymore. A troubled, choked laugh escapes him and he tries to cover it with a cough.

“What’s funny?” Owen glowers down at him.

Shaking his head, because he can’t go there with Owen sitting here dead and half naked, Ianto says, “You spent all that time patching us back together, now it’s your turn.”

“And you’re loving it.”

Ianto pauses, paintbrush poised in midair. He blinks and finally looks up. “Owen. You’re dead. Why do you think I’d be happy about it? Would you have been happy if I’d been killed?”

Owen shifts, swinging one foot out by Ianto’s side. “No. And not chiefly because Jack would be a total pain to live with if that happened.”

They share a brief flicker of a smile. Ianto goes back to work blending the color in. He says, in his most detached voice, “You’d think Jack would be used to this by now. Losing people.”

“Maybe you never really get used to it.” Owen sounds so tired and there’s a long moment of silence that follows.

With a last few brushstrokes, Ianto finishes and leans back. “Think I’m done here.” He screws his face up in scrutiny. “No one would ever mistake me for an artist.” Owen lifts a hand up to inspect it, but Ianto slaps his hand away. “Let it dry, first.” He starts to pack away the kit and hears Owen pulling his shirt back on. Without turning to face him, Ianto clears his throat and says, very quietly, “He shouldn’t have done what he did, but I am glad you’re back, Owen.”

A moment passes and when Ianto glances back, Owen is grinning at him. “Careful. You keep being nice to me and Jack’s going to start thinking the wrong thing here.”

“Clearly, you don’t know Jack very well. If he thought we were shagging, he’d just ask to join in.”

“We could do it just to screw with him.” Owen smirks and Ianto shakes his head. “And I don’t think that’s true.”

“Oh, come on, Owen, you know how he is.”

“Yeah. I don’t really.” Owen slides off the table, but doesn’t move to leave. “I think I spent too much of my time here being angry with him for one thing or another to ever really get to know him.”

Meeting Owen’s eyes, Ianto murmurs, “I noticed.”

Owen looks away, fingering the frayed edge of his sleeve. “Why weren’t you ever angry with him?”

“I was. I tried. He seemed to prefer that I direct all my anger toward him rather than turn it all on myself.” With a sigh, Ianto drops his gaze to the floor, finishing quietly, “I think that’s when I realized that he gladly takes the blame even when it’s not his fault.”

“I’m glad I’m not… gone. But don’t let him do this to anyone else.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve already had the talk. He’s not allowed to resurrect anyone else.” Ianto flashes a brief grin. “Except himself, of course.”

“Well, then I guess you’d better explain to him the finer points of your filing system before you go, so he doesn’t bring you back for some admin.”

Looking him in the eye again, Ianto quietly asks, “You know that isn’t why he did it, right?”

Owen shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Easier to deal with, though.”

With a shake of his head and a twitch of his lips, Ianto walks over toward the steps. “Oh, you’re such a man, Owen, and now you really can’t cry.”

Owen remains planted at the base of the stairs, a troubled frown on his face. He lightly touches Ianto’s sleeve. “When I’m… you know, whatever. When this energy stops… energizing me… Could you make sure she still gets my monthly check? Can’t give it to her all at once, but take it from what I have and make sure she still gets it.”

Owen peers closely at him waiting for…

… _his pint from the bartender, he says, “Yeah, you say you don’t care, but you do. I can tell. She’s your mum, whether she’s there or not. Trust me, I know.” Owen pats him on the back and Ianto nods in_ …

… understanding. Ianto says, “Sure.” He can’t help the slow grin or the little laugh that escape him. “Of all the things we could have bonded over - girlfriends taken by aliens, lovers vanishing into the ether - and you choose shitty relationships with absentee mothers.”

 

\- **Everything’s fine today; that is our illusion**.  
\- Voltaire

 

Losing himself in the calming monotony of filing, Ianto lets his mind go blank, relaxing into routine and attributing his occasional sniffle to dust and nothing more.

He knows that Jack, maybe Gwen, too, will be watching via the CCTV. If one of them decides to come down here after him, he almost hopes it’s Gwen. She’s easier. He can let her give him a hug, smile and say he’ll be OK and that will be that. She’ll think she’s helped and he won’t have to deal with it. For now.

If it’s Jack… Jack will make him face it. Jack won’t let him hold it in. He’ll break down, if it’s Jack. He doesn’t want that now. Not yet. It’s not time. Of course, Jack may not come. He’s not always overly perceptive when it comes to these things.

Gwen doesn’t give up easily only temporarily, to regroup, then coming back even stronger. From the first day, he’d admired that about her. Her tenacity and the way she lets herself care so openly - almost selfless to the point of self-destruction at times. She sort of reminds him of Mari Pritchard. When his father became ill, Mari was one person he could count on. Before Ianto had left school altogether, Mari used to let him copy her homework, because he’d been up too late the night before to get it finished. Or she’d bring him food, knowing that he hadn’t the time or energy to cook. She’d sat with him in hospital waiting rooms and distracted him with stupid jokes, keeping his mind occupied, never letting him sink too low into despair. He must have been incredibly thick back then never to realize - not until much later, when he’d wanted nothing more to do with Cardiff or anyone in it - that she’d been in love with him.

Ianto smiles, thinking about her. They’d lost touch after he’d gone and he never knew what became of her. One more person, one more memory tinged with sadness. If Gwen comes down, maybe he’ll tell her about Mari, the one person he’d left first.

 

\- **All alone, whether you like it or not, alone is something you’ll be quite a lot**.  
\- Dr. Seuss

 

“Alright, all answers in the hat, please!” Gwen passes the… well, it’s a helmet from an old suit of armor that had come through the rift about fifty years ago. It had still had a head inside of it at the time. It’s clean now, Ianto has made sure of that. Everyone tosses in their folded or, in Owen’s case, balled up pieces of paper. Gwen raises it high above her head, grinning like a mad lunatic.

Of course, they’ve all been drinking. After the good days, they’ve allowed themselves a little celebration. They do this after the bad days, too, but call it something else and it lacks games. Since Jack’s disappearance, there have been fewer good days.

Owen belches loudly and reaches for another beer. “Hurry up and pick it already.”

“No.” Gwen holds the helmet away from them, even though no one had tried to grab it. “We made that rule. Everyone says their guess aloud and if you guess the one I pick, then you win.”

“Oh, right, right.” Owen nods, slouching down into the couch cushions. “What do we win again?”

“Um…” Gwen screws her face up. “I’ll… um… I’ll do your reports for a week.”

“That’s not really a prize,” Owen says, flapping his hand at her. “You or Ianto usually end up doing them anyway.”

“Fine. Then…” Gwen’s eyes roll upward to the ceiling; her foot taps without rhythm. “Um, I won’t bitch about you not doing your reports for a week, Owen. Whatever. Everyone give your guess. Today’s question is: What planet is Jack actually from? Tosh?”

“Um… Earth.”

“Oh, you’re so boring, Tosh.” Owen nudges her knee with his.

She shrugs. “It’s what I believe to be true.”

“It doesn’t have to be true,” he slurs. “Just has to pick it out of the hat. You put Earth in there, didn’t you?” He shakes his head. “Well, I pick U-”

“Uranus,” they all say in unison, laughing. Tosh says, “You’re so predictable.”

“Ianto?” Gwen looks at him.

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Raxicoricofallipatorius.”

“Now you’re just making words up!”

“No, it’s real,” Tosh defends him. “It’s in the database, anyway. Gwen, your turn.”

“Oh, um. I… Jupiter? What? It’s the biggest planet in the solar system, isn’t it?”

Owen snorts. “Is Jack a size queen?” He looks over at Ianto, who resolutely avoids his gaze.

“Alright, alright. I’m picking!” Gwen gives the helmet a good shake above her head, reaches in and plucks out a bit of paper. “OK. The winner is… I can’t read this.”

Ianto leans forward to peer at the piece of paper. “It’s your handwriting.”

“Is it? I can’t remember what I wrote. Another one!” She tosses the paper aside and picks another. “OK, the real winner is… Earth! Tosh wins.”

Owen whines, “Tosh always wins.”

She tucks her hair back behind her ear. “What’s my prize, then?”

“What would you like?” Gwen sets the helmet down onto the coffee table. It rolls off with a loud clang. “Jack used to let us all have a prize.”

“Yeah, except Ianto used to get his in private.” Owen smirks, drunkenly, and everyone else stops and stares down at the floor.

“I think we could all use some coffee before we go home for the night.” Ianto stands, brushes off his spotless trousers, and walks away toward the kitchen.

Behind him he hears Gwen’s voice, “Why do you always have to be such a prick, Owen?” and her clomping footsteps, slowing to a stop. He doesn’t need to turn to know the look on her face. “Alright, love?”

“Fine.” He does turn to give her a reassuring smile. “Over the past year and a half I have learned to mostly ignore him. Especially when he’s drunk. He won’t even remember this when he’s hung-over tomorrow.”

“Ianto-”

“You should give Rhys a call.” He gently touches her hand, the ring on her finger. “Let him know you’ll be home soon.”

 

\- **Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are**.  
\- Dinah Maria Mulock

 

Flipping the pages, Ianto tries to find the entry that Jack must have read. There will be words about reading someone’s private journal later. He reaches the end, the last entry in the book, and frowns.

It is marked as yesterday’s date, part of the mysterious missing two days, and the only words written, in his own looping scrawl, are: _Do not try to remember. For everyone’s safety, it is best left forgotten_.

From the binding it is evident that a page has been torn out. Ianto runs his finger over the ragged edge, a fuzzy sort of tingling in the back of his mind. He shivers, like a ghost has passed over him. He glances around the hub. Toshiko is working at her desk, the flowers pushed to one side. Owen is down in the autopsy bay, clinking noises echoing off the walls. Gwen is out, trying to reassure Rhys. Whatever had happened, he’d been affected, too.

Jack is at his desk in his office, seemingly working on his reports. Quickly, Ianto snaps his diary shut and tucks it under his arm. He makes his way over to the office and pops his head round the door.

“I didn’t read it.” Jack looks up, catching Ianto by surprise. “Not all of it. I just happened to glance at that one page, OK?”

A small smile tugs at Ianto’s lips. He steps up to Jack’s desk and lays his diary down, open to the final entry, and points to the words. “I think we did it to ourselves. For a reason.”

“Yeah.” Jack places his hand over Ianto’s, lightly tapping his fingers. “I know. I found a similar note to myself just this morning. I left a message for Gwen on her phone and I told Tosh to stop investigating it.” He looks up into Ianto’s eyes. “Someone should probably let Owen know.”

“I’ll leave that to you.” Ianto’s lips curl, slightly, but something tugs at his mind. Eyes darting away, he says, “Um… I have to… I’m going out to run some errands.” He starts to move away, but turns back. “Need anything?”

Jack shakes his head, a bemused look on his face.

\---

Ianto squints against the sun. For some reason, he feels it should be raining. Shivering in his coat, although it is a warm summer day, he looks up into the bright, blue sky and back down at the cold, gray stone. “Did you follow me?”

Stepping up beside him, Jack clasps his hands behind his back. “No.” Ianto glances over, arching one eyebrow and Jack shrugs. “I saw you walking. I saw you carrying flowers. Was kinda hoping they were for me.”

“You know my feelings on flowers, Jack. They’re dead. They remind me of funerals.”

“And so here we are.” Of course, Jack knows to whom this grave belongs. A fake grave for the poor pizza girl who’d been _‘hit by a car on her way home from a delivery’_ one night. “Ianto…”

“I just felt this… overwhelming guilt all of a sudden. I don’t know why or where it came from. Just something in the back of my mind. It’s awful, because I’ve barely thought about it in months. I didn’t know what else to do. This isn’t much.” He bends down and places the bouquet against the stone. The grass is too long and needs to be trimmed.

“Ianto, this isn’t-”

“Yes, it is. It’s my fault she’s dead, Jack. My actions caused it. It’s as good as if I’d-” he cuts off, abruptly. His hands are shaking. “I’m responsible.”

“No.” Jack gently puts a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, giving him plenty of opportunity to accept or reject the touch. When he does nothing, Jack moves forward and wraps his arms around Ianto from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “It’s not all on you. Blame me.”

“Tried that, remember. Didn’t last long.” Ianto remains unmoving and unmoved. He stares straight ahead. “I feel bad about this. Just let me feel bad. It _is_ my fault.”

“OK. So what do you want me to do? You want me to punish you? Lock you in a cell?”

Ianto shivers again, violently, as the tingle in the back of his mind intensifies. Jack’s arms tighten around him. He swallows, turns his head to the side, and says, “Not particularly, no.” He rubs his nose against Jack’s jaw, squeezing his eyes shut tight and forcing his breathing under control.

“You want me to spank you?”

“Stop being perverted in a cemetery.” He turns his body so that he can wrap his arms around Jack’s waist and press his face into the warm neck. Breathing deeply.

Jack rubs his back, soothingly. “Come on,” he breathes into Ianto’s ear. Breaking away, he trails his hand down Ianto’s arm before lacing their fingers together.

Looking up into his eyes, Ianto sighs, “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Jack says again and tugs him by the hand. “I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

Leaning into Jack’s side, Ianto lets out a small laugh. “If you really want me to send you flowers, I will. I know you’d like that.”

“Ha! You did read my log.”

“It’s not as if you keep it private. For about three months you were accidentally emailing it to everyone until Tosh fixed it for you.”

“Maybe I was doing it on purpose to see if everyone was paying attention.”

“Mm-hmm.” Ianto absently nods his head, the coarse fabric of Jack’s coat scratchy against his cheek.

Jack lifts his arm and wraps it around Ianto’s shoulders, steering them out of the cemetery. “Not flowers, no. Chocolates are good. Oh! How about one of those singing telegrams? Do they still do those?”

“I don’t know. I can get you a stripper-gram. Your choice: Male or female?”

“Ooh! Surprise me.”

 

\- **Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over**.  
\- Gloria Naylor

 

Ianto must have found another blind spot; Jack can’t locate him on the CCTV in the archives. He doesn’t stop looking, though. Gwen keeps glaring at him. Fortunately, she’s actually too busy with other work to start meddling. Unfortunately, that means she can’t start meddling. She can’t march in here and demand that Jack go do something and he almost wishes she would, because at the moment he’s not sure what to do.

Everything always has to be so complicated. Jack can’t simply put himself in Ianto’s place and think about what _he_ would want his… _someone_ to do. The last few months would have been too much for anyone to be able to handle. Add that to everything else that Ianto’s been through these last few years. And the few years before that. And the few years before _that_.

Jack has met a lot of people in his time and he’s seen a lot of loss. It still doesn’t seem fair for Ianto, for someone so young. And Jack can’t fix it for him.

Ah, there he is. Ianto appears on the screen, walking from one side of the room to the other. His dark suit is mottled gray on the monitor. He looks completely absorbed in his task, but Jack knows that his mind is miles away. He brings his fingers up to trace the image on his screen, wishing he could reach out and…

… _pull Ianto closer, swaying to the music. Jack breathes in the scent of his hair. Ianto’s head comes to rest against his and Ianto whispers, “I’ve been trying so hard never to think about it that it snuck up on me. Two years last week since the tower burned and here I am now, dancing at a wedding.” He doesn’t need to explain more. Hard to imagine your life after the world ends. Jack asks, “What do you need?” and Ianto answers, “Just to be on my own tonight. After we’ve finished here. I’ll come to you tomorrow.” He kisses Jack’s neck and lets him lead, surrendering all control just for the moment. Jack can_ …

… hold him up. But he doesn’t go down to the archives. To Ianto. He’ll wait for Ianto to come to him. It’s usually best.

 

\- **Other things may change us, but we start and end with family**.  
\- Anthony Brandt

 

Ianto is on the couch in the hub with his eyes closed. He must hear Jack approaching, because he turns before Jack can say anything. Ianto’s lips curve in an almost-smile. “Really not helpful with your spooky _‘they could still be out there’_ speech.”

Jack shrugs, taking slow steps until he can sit on the couch next to him. He raises a hand and brushes Ianto’s cheek. “Are you OK?”

“I’m a bit… I dunno. Tired.” Ianto’s shoulders lift just slightly in an approximation of a shrug. He keeps his eyes downcast, watching his hands sit idly in his lap. “ _The Electro_ was one of the best memories I had of my father and now it’s sort of… tainted.” He turns his eyes to Jack and he looks so young. Jack sometimes forgets. “When I left this city after my dad died, I thought… I didn’t think I’d ever want to come back. It just felt like everywhere I looked it was… it hurt, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jack’s voice cracks, so he repeats, “yes, I know what you mean.” His hand, resting lightly on Ianto’s shoulder, slides around and Jack lets his fingers play with the fine hairs at the nape of Ianto’s neck.

“That woman, she said they touched me. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, Ianto. You don’t have to let it mean anything.”

“I wish we could have made it better. Done _something_. That boy… he lost his whole family.” Ianto leans, just a little, into Jack’s side, until Jack’s arm around him pulls him closer. Ianto lets his head rest on Jack’s shoulder and says, softly, “He’s all on his own now.”

Smoothing Ianto’s hair down, Jack says, “Gwen’s already been in contact with social services to track down any relatives. Don’t worry, Ianto. He’ll be alright.” He places a tiny kiss on Ianto’s temple. “You’re not all on your own.”

“Mm,” Ianto grunts into Jack’s shirt, “I’m dating a circus freak. My mother would be so proud.”

Chuckling, Jack runs his fingers through Ianto’s hair. “You know, if you could tell her, I bet she would be.” Ianto grabs Jack’s fingers when he starts tickling his ear. Quietly, Jack asks, “She was there for a few years, wasn’t she?”

Ianto nods his head against Jack’s shoulder, but he covers Jack’s mouth with a hand before he can speak again.

Pushing Ianto’s hand away, Jack decides to change the subject. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How come you asked Gwen and Owen to go to the cinema with you?”

“Oh.” Ianto sits up straight, but doesn’t move away completely. “I didn’t. Gwen saw me reading the ad and asked about it. Owen overheard and, since he has no life anymore…” He stumbles, stops, looks sheepishly at Jack. “You know what I mean. He decided to tag along.” Ianto shrugs, averting his eyes.

“Oh, right.” Jack idly runs his fingers along the back of Ianto’s shoulders. “So… why didn’t you ask me? I’d have gone with you.”

Ianto looks surprised, flustered. “I… um,” he stutters and scratches behind his left ear. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested. It sounded a bit childish, I guess.”

“That’s perfect!” Jack grins, spreading his arms wide. “You guys are always calling me childish.” Ianto laughs and Jack places his arm around his shoulders again. “Besides, we’ve still not managed the movie thing, yet.”

“I think I’m a bit over the cinema at the moment.”

“Oh, c’mon. We’ll go to one of those new, gaudy places that you can’t stand and have no memories associated with, get a giant tub of popcorn and we can sit all the way in the back.” Jack leers, raising his eyebrows. “You know, with those big, comfy seats and the armrests that lift up.”

Ianto laughs, shoving at Jack’s arm. “Oh? And how do you know about armrests that lift out of the way?”

“Gwen. She told me that when she was still in school she went on a date and let a boy-”

“Yes, don’t need to hear that, thanks.” Ianto places a hand on Jack’s chest, pushing him into the couch cushions. “And I think she told me that story once before. She’s not your innocent little Gwen Cooper, is she?”

“I never thought of her like that. Well, OK, maybe I did.” Jack willingly lies back, letting Ianto settle on top of him. “So, is it a date then?”

“Yeah,” Ianto whispers, smiling down at him. “But only if I get to see you in your circus outfit.” Grinning, Ianto’s eyes glint with mischief. “Be more fun if you were some sort of contortionist, I think.”

“Ianto Jones, you are positively wicked sometimes.”

 

\- **Come let us take our fill of love until the morning; let us solace ourselves with love**.  
\- Proverbs 7:18

 

Logging out, Jack sets his computer to hibernate. He stretches his arms high above his head, working the kinks out of his back. A dark shape out in the hub catches his eye and he tenses.

One security breach per day is enough. Standing, Jack reaches for his gun, creeps toward the door and peers out.

Ianto moves from Owen’s station to Gwen’s with a bin bag in hand. Jack relaxes, holstering his gun. He watches for a while as Ianto stoops to pick rubbish off the floor. He leans against the doorframe, thinking about recent events.

“You didn’t tell me what you wanted those coordinates for.” Ianto’s voice in the stillness of the hub startles Jack.

Raising his chin, Jack takes a couple steps down into the hub. “Would you still have given me the correct ones if I had?”

“Yes.” Ianto stops, turns and looks up, right into Jack’s eyes. “She would have killed Tosh. She really would have, I believe that.” He starts to reach for an empty take-away container, but stops, dropping the bag to the floor. “Is it always like this? Life in Torchwood?” Ianto’s voice is small and far away. When he turns his face to Jack again, he looks so very young and so very old all at once. “Or maybe it’s just life in general. Sooner or later, you still lose everything.”

“Ianto…”

“She told you, didn’t she? Told you what she heard. She told me, too.” Ianto quickly resumes his work, grabbing the containers in his fist and tossing them into the bag, roughly. “It came as a bit of a shock to hear what was, apparently, going on in my own head. You know, actually it was a bit of a relief to know there was anything at all. For a while I felt as if I was really dead. Just… nothing.” He slams the bag down and picks up an empty coffee mug, clenching it in a shaking fist.

Jack’s almost sure that ceramic mug would have shattered in Ianto’s grip had he not gotten there in time to pry it from white-knuckled fingers. He brings his hands up to Ianto’s shoulders, gently bringing him closer. “Ianto-”

“Even after those people nearly killed me,” Ianto whispers into Jack’s chest, voice low and gravelly. “I didn’t… I couldn’t feel anything. When I close my eyes I’m still not sure what will come. Metal and machines and knives and slabs of meat. I have this one dream of Lisa carving me open and serving my heart on a platter.” He grasps Jack by the braces. “But it’s all so far away. It was better being numb and now it’s just… there and I don’t want to…” He slides his hand up Jack’s chest to his neck, fingers clutching and pulling his hair.

Surprised by the sudden movement, Jack doesn’t realize they are kissing until Ianto breaks away. “Ianto…”

“Shut up, Jack. Just make me feel something else. Just make me feel… something.”

“Are you-”

“No talking.”

And it’s clear that Ianto has no clue what he’s doing. It’s something new, different from what they were doing before. He’s much more demanding, insistent. He stays quiet, mostly, but he allows Jack to hold him afterward. He doesn’t want to talk, but he keeps coming back, continues to seek Jack out. For this. Each time Ianto comes to him, Jack knows he should stop it, should tell him no, to find something else, someone else. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He can do nothing, but be here.

He never does get around to asking Ianto to dinner.

 

\- **Then I did the simplest thing in the world. I leaned down... and kissed him. And the world cracked open**.  
\- Agnes De Mille

 

When Ianto returns, he walks deliberately through the hub toward the kitchen. His eyes are red and his voice hoarse when he asks, “Anyone like a coffee?”

Coming out of his office, Jack watches from the doorway as Ianto begins the process of making coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack sees Gwen rise from her chair, but he gives her a simple nod, telling her to go back to her work, before turning and ambling slowly over to Ianto.

Checking that Gwen has gone, out of earshot, Jack steps up right behind and places his hands on Ianto’s hips. He murmurs into Ianto’s ear, “Mm. Two of my favorite things. Coffee and you in a rumpled suit.”

Ianto buttons his waistcoat and smoothes it down. “I’ll get back to the computers as soon as I’ve had a caffeine fix.”

If Jack didn’t know better, he’d think Ianto’s play at formality was genuine. But he can tell the difference now. He slides his arms around Ianto’s waist and pulls him back firmly against his chest. “Don’t worry about it right now.”

Ianto doesn’t relax into Jack’s arms, but he doesn’t resist either. “We need to get someone in, Jack.”

“Shh, I know.” He kisses Ianto’s neck, just below his hair, and lower, just inside the collar of his shirt. Slowly, turning Ianto around in his arms, Jack kisses his jaw and finally his mouth. “So, which section of the archives did you reorganize and will I be able to find anything?”

Ianto smiles, head down. “Whenever you need anything, all you have to do is ask.” He blinks, his brow creasing, and frowns. “Although, you really should learn your way around down there. I won’t always be he-”

Jack stops him with a kiss, pressing their lips together, hard. “Not today.”

With a nod, Ianto kisses him again. He rolls his head to rest on Jack’s shoulder and lets Jack wrap him up in his arms. Ianto runs his hands…

… _through Jack’s hair, tipping his head back. Jack leans into him, shutting his eyes as the hot water cascades over them and the clumps of dirt and mud plop onto the shower floor. Jack holds onto Ianto and lets go of everything else, steam filling his lungs, tears leaking from his eyes. It feels so nice to have someone to lean on. He shudders as Ianto gently scrubs a cloth over his skin, every inch, every crevice, all the miserable years washing away with the water flowing_ …

… down his back, and asks, “Coffee then?”

“Yeah.” Jack reaches up and rubs a thumb over Ianto’s cheek, tracing the path of dried tear tracks. “Let Gwen give you a hug when you go back out there. I think she needs it.”

Ianto smiles, a tiny laugh escaping. “OK.”

“Jack!” At the sound of Gwen’s voice, they both rush out and stop in the middle of the room to find her on the phone. “Thanks, Andy. We’ll be there soon as we can.” She slaps her mobile shut, turning to face them, and says, “There’s an armed man in the city centre wearing _strange_ clothing demanding to see Captain Jack Harkness.”

Ianto looks toward the ceiling, muttering, “Please let it be the same one. I can’t handle another.”

\---

Ianto pulls the SUV right up to the curb in front of the shops. He’s barely stopped before Jack and Gwen hop out and rush to the gaggle of police officers keeping the crowds under control. When Ianto reaches them, Gwen’s old partner is filling them in.

“Luckily, he ordered everyone out before he started shooting up the place, but he keeps making threats unless we can get Captain Bloody Harkness.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jack says, offering his hand to PC Davidson. “Captain Bloody Harkness. We’ll take it from here.”

The constable looks incredulously at Jack’s hand. “You’ll tell me what’s going on, is what you’ll do. Who is that? What’s he doing here? Is this another one of your _aliens_?”

“Say that a bit louder, huh? I don’t think the ladies across the street heard.”

“He’s not an alien,” Gwen says, rolling her eyes, then pauses. “Least, I don’t think so.”

“He’s an escaped mental patient,” Ianto interjects, stepping between them, his voice a soft, pacifying baritone. “Really, it would be best if you let us take care of this.”

“Oi! Gwen-”

“Just let us handle this, Andy,” she says, trying to get around him and move him out of the way at the same time.

But he doesn’t back down, shouting something, and the crowd around them is loud and restless, pushing at the line of officers. “If I can handle those six-foot sewer monsters then I don’t see-”

“Andy, you’re a good police officer,” Gwen tells him, vehemently, gripping his hand in both of hers. “In this job, you don’t always get to be a good police officer.” Her voice softens. “Don’t always get to be a good person. Stay good, Andy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto sees Jack slip into… _‘Miss Selfridge’_? He has no time to react before two shots ring out. Amidst the screams and panic surrounding them, Ianto and Gwen pull their guns out and enter the shop cautiously.

Captain John has his gun aimed at Jack’s head, point blank range, but they both appear uninjured. John swings his arm toward them. He wobbles a little, falling back into a half-dressed mannequin, and his eyes look glazed. He leers at Ianto. “Eye candy!”

Gwen whips around and yells just as the plaster above and to the left of Ianto’s head explodes. He feels Gwen’s body over his and, for a moment, he thinks that that was it and now she’s gone, too. But she is wriggling, her hands are fluttering over his chest. _She_ is checking him for injuries. She’d pushed _him_ out of the way.

“Oh God, Ianto. You’re bleeding!”

Looking down at where their middles are pressed together, Ianto says, “No. I think that’s you.” He quickly peels up her shirt to reveal the bandages there and the blood seeping through. “You’ve popped your stitches.” A high, hysterical laugh escapes him and in the distance he can hear Jack yelling, but can’t make out the words.

Gwen twists to examine her reopened wounds. The bloodied bandage is on one side and the mess of scar tissue from the shotgun blast is on the other. “It’s alright,” she says, breathless. “I don’t think they’ve opened completely.”

Ianto fumbles in his pocket and retrieves a clean handkerchief. He puts it in her hand and presses it to her stomach. Over her shoulder, he can see that Jack has the gun out of John’s hand now and has him backed up against a wall.

John is slumped back, reaching one hand out and placing it over Jack’s heart. He is saying something, over and over again, the same thing. It takes a while for the ringing in Ianto’s ears to subside and he can hear what it is.

“I found him for you, Jack. I found him for you.”

Ianto helps Gwen to her feet, keeping one arm around her middle to help keep pressure on her wound. His eyes remain focused on Jack. Jack, staring straight into John Hart, motionless.

\---

Jack carries John’s unconscious body through the hub and lays him down on the table in the med bay, gently, almost tenderly. He checks for more weapons, running his hands all along and inside the coat and down John’s legs. He removes John’s wrist-strap and boots, as well. Gwen and Ianto remain by his side, guns trained on John the entire time.

Jack looks at each of them, saying, “Guys. He’s down for the count; you can relax for a bit.”

Ianto and Gwen exchange glances. She lowers her weapon, pulling out a pair of handcuffs instead. Quickly, she secures one of John’s hands to the table and looks up defiantly at Jack, as though waiting to be challenged.

Jack smirks at her and nods approvingly. He pushes Ianto’s arm, still aiming his gun at John’s head, down and tells him, “It’s alright, really.” Jack then points to Gwen’s bloodied shirt. “We need to get that taken care of right now.”

Gwen examines the bloodstains on her shirt and sighs, “That’s another top ruined. I’d better change and toss this one out before I go home. I don’t need Rhys to be worrying.” The slashes on her stomach hadn’t fully reopened, but they’d needed to be re-dressed and bandaged.

Ianto offers her a small, thin smile as he gathers up the used bandages and alcohol he needs while Jack stands guard between them and the unconscious John. They’ve stayed out of this area as much as possible and Ianto notes how many things will need to be restocked soon.

Finishing up, Ianto hands Gwen a spare t-shirt and they both seem to realize that it had belonged to Owen at the same time that Jack does. He steps over to them, placing a hand over both of theirs and tells her, “Go on home, Gwen. Be with Rhys. I don’t think he’ll be waking up today,” Jack says, gesturing over his shoulder at John. “If he does, we can handle it.”

“Ja-”

“Or,” he interrupts, “I’ll give you a call.” He bends down and kisses the top of her head. “Promise.”

“I-” she starts to speak, but her mobile buzzes in her pocket. Fishing it out and checking the ID, she sighs. “It’s Andy.” Looking curiously up at Ianto, she asks, “You didn’t ret-con him? After… after the…”

“No.” Ianto shakes his head. “I’d like to say it was deliberate, but it appears to have been an oversight on my part.” He frowns, looking to Jack.

Jack exhales loudly through his nose, shoulders sagging. Then he shrugs and grins, tiredly. “Changes, right? We don’t really _need_ to ret-con him. Your call, Gwen.”

She nods, shakes her head then shrugs, sighing. “I don’t know. Should think about it, I guess. He _is_ a good police officer. He could be helpful if he knew what was going on…” She trails off as her mobile buzzes again. “I should answer this.” She moves to pass Ianto, but stops and places her hand on his arm, a look passing between them before she heads up the stairs.

The hub is eerily quiet once Gwen has left. Jack and Ianto stand awkwardly in the med bay.

“So,” Jack says, clapping his hands together to break the tense silence. “Out with it.”

“Sorry?”

“Come on. You and Gwen. I saw the look.”

“Oh, yes.” Ianto looks mildly uncomfortable for a moment. He clears his throat and says, “I’m very sorry to tell you like this, Jack, but Gwen and I are having an affair.”

Jack does a double take then punches Ianto lightly on the arm. “I’m being serious for once and you’re making jokes.” He studies Ianto closely, raising one eyebrow. “Right?”

The corners of Ianto’s mouth curl up as he looks down at the floor. Jack grabs him by the sleeve and reels him in, wrapping his arms around Ianto’s shoulders.

Next to them, on the table, John elicits a soft moan, his teeth chattering. Jack watches him over Ianto’s shoulder and says, “Looks like that sedative we gave him is wearing off.”

Ianto pulls out of Jack’s arms and turns around, facing the table with a frown. “It shouldn’t be. That was enough to keep him out for at least six hours.”

Jack grimaces. “Not with everything else he’s got in his system.”

“Are you telling me the homicidal sociopath is also on futuristic drugs?”

“Um… yes?”

“That’s…” Ianto drops his hands to his sides. “That’s lovely, Jack, really.”

John groans, louder this time, shaking and shivering. His eyes pop open, staring wildly round the room and his jaw clenches shut. Jack moves to his side to hold him down, to reassure him. He feels Ianto step up beside him and starts to tell him to back away, but John’s legs kick out with great force, knocking Ianto against the wall and sending Jack flying backward.

Jack scrambles to his feet and grapples with John’s flailing limbs, trying to pin him to the table. Wild eyes turn to him and a flicker of recognition passes quickly, followed by fear and relief all at once. He calms, a little, stops thrashing about, but his body trembles violently beneath Jack’s hands.

He gestures for Ianto to come closer. “Hold him. But be careful.”

John’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his hand gripping Jack’s bicep. He manages a croaked, “Ack!”

“It’s OK,” Jack says to him, smoothing a hand over his brow. Quickly, he runs his hands down John’s coat once more, reaching inside. “Aha!”

“What’s that?” Ianto asks, arms straining to hold John down.

Jack flips through the small plastic packet, looking for something, until he finds a patch marked ‘SLEEP.’ He slaps the patch onto the side of John’s neck and immediately the man’s body relaxes, limbs falling loose as he passes out. “That should take care of him.”

Ianto backs away and crosses his arms over his chest, staring down at John’s, once again, unconscious body.

“The drugs will run their course through his system and he’ll be fine. Probably. Shouldn’t take more than twenty-four hours. Then he can be out of our hair.” They should probably put him in a cell, but not if they need medical equipment on hand.

Nodding, Ianto finally meets Jack’s eyes. “So, you’re just going to let him walk? After everything he did, you’re just going to let him roam the planet freely.”

“Ianto, it’s not his fault.”

“Yes, it is, Jack!”

“No. He is the man I made him to be.”

 

\- **If you say run, I'll run with you. If you say hide, we'll hide. Because my love for you would break my heart in two if you should fall** …  
\- David Bowie, Let’s Dance

 

“Yeah, very original,” his partner scoffs as they stroll through the darkened alley.

_‘Jack.’_ He likes going with that. In all those old movies the heroes were always called ‘Jack.’ The really old ones, all the way from Earth. They were so outdated, weren’t even three-dimensional or interactive, but he’d loved them as a kid.

“You always use that,” the other man continues, “it’s no wonder you got tracked so easily.”

Narrowing his eyes, Jack glances sideways at his partner, wondering where _he’d_ been when they were tracking him, possibly torturing him, making him do who knows what. “I like ‘Jack.’ It’s classic.”

“It’s _boring_. Can’t you ever come up with something new? What’s the point of an alias if you always go with slight variations on the same thing?”

The _point_ , Jack knows, is to keep it simple so you never slip up. Something this idiot obviously hasn’t and never will learn. “And what would _you_ choose?”

“Who cares? A name doesn’t mean anything. You can call me whatever you want.”

Jack rolls his eyes. Little bastard had followed him from the Agency. He really should ditch him, they’ll only get caught if they stay together and there’s no way in hell Jack is going to chance another mishap like the last time. Maybe physically they hadn’t aged those five years, but he can remember every fucking moment of hell.

They couldn’t have erased _those_ memories. Oh _no!_ And his _partner_ is of no use, whatsoever.

“What the fuck are we doing here, anyway? We don’t have to answer to them anymore. We can do whatever we want, _Jack!_ ”

“I am doing what I want.” Big cities on big planets are easy to disappear in until he can come up with a definite plan. “I’m making them pay.”

“You’re just going to get yourself caught. And then they’ll do more than wipe your bloody memories!” he yells. He tugs at Jack’s sleeve, pleading, “Look, we can do anything. We could go anywhere.”

“You think they won’t be searching for us any place, any _time_ , we go? Just go back to them. Tell them… I don’t know, tell them you killed me or something. I think people would believe that.”

“I don’t want to go back without you.” He stares up into Jack’s eyes then turns away. Picking up his pace, he scuffs his shoes on the ground in an exaggerated swagger. “No one else is ever any fun. It’d be bloody pointless,” he tosses over his shoulder.

Jack checks the readings on his vortex manipulator. They’ve got at least four hours before they can be detected. Which gives him that much time to find a way to escape. If they find them together, they’ll _both_ be in trouble. Worlds of pain. Jack can’t… shouldn’t let that happen to him. This man would follow him anywhere, into the depths of hell and back and Jack is almost tempted to let him.

It wouldn’t be right. He can commit one last act of good. Turning to the smaller, younger man, Jack says, “You should go back. Go now.”

“I already told you, no. Like they’d take me back without you, anyway!” He grips Jack’s arm in both fists. “I could help you search for-”

“I told you not to mention that anymore. It’s over!” Jack yells, right in his face, towering over him until his partner, his _friend_ , shrinks back. Jack stares until he turns his face away.

No more. The war had been pointless. He hadn’t made a difference. He hadn’t saved anyone. The Agency was supposed to _fix_ things. But they’re just liars. It’s all lies. No more.

In the new stories, maybe the villains will always be called _‘Jack.’_

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

\- **To arrive at a just estimate of a renowned man's character one must judge it by the standards of his time, not ours**.  
\- Mark Twain

 

When Gwen walks in the next morning, she stops short at the sight of Ianto. “That’s a strange look for you.”

Looking down at himself, wearing a dark blue shirt and gray trousers borrowed from Jack, both a little too big, he’s just about to explain that he has run out of clean clothes in the hub when Gwen shouts.

“What’s _he_ doing up and about?” She’s pulled her gun and is aiming at John sitting, unrestrained, in the med bay.

“It’s alright, Gwen,” Ianto says, although he’s not feeling it himself, unhurriedly approaching her as Jack comes bounding down the steps from the hothouse.

“What do you mean it’s alright? It’s not alright. Jack!”

“Don’t worry, Gwen. He can’t leave that area,” Jack explains, holding up a little black box. “This is a Zjikijiji prisoner control unit.”

“A Ge- what?”

“A…” Jack pauses, then waves a hand in the air. “That part isn’t important. It’s like… uh, you know those ankle bracelets people wear when under house arrest? It’s like that. I’ve marked off the perimeter with this and if he moves outside of it or even touches anything he’s not supposed to… Bzzt! Like a giant bug zapper.”

Gwen nods, slowly, a confused look still on her face. “OK. Right.” She lowers her gun, eyes darting between Jack and the med bay. “Why don’t we just lock him in a cell?”

Ianto steps around her to get to the computer terminal. “Jack didn’t want him dying on us in the middle of the night and he needed to be monitored and… attended to. You want to take him down there, be my guest. He gets… handsy.” Ianto twitches and doesn’t meet her eye.

“It’ll be alright for now, Gwen.” Jack pats her on the shoulder as he passes by on the way to his office.

“But what are we going to do with him?” she asks, following Jack through the hub. “What if we need to go down there for something?”

“Gwen?” Ianto calls over his shoulder. He waits for her to stop and walk back over, and hands her a slip of paper. “They’re restoring the power plant to full capacity today. You wanted to be there?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She takes the paper from his hand, frowning. “Are we sure…”

“Jack did the sweep,” Ianto tells her, gently. “There was nothing.”

“OK.” She nods firmly, once. “You’ll take care of everything until I get back?” She smiles at his mock-insulted look. “’Course you will.” As she passes, her eyes narrow into slits at John. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Ianto watches him, warily, as he heads over to Jack’s office. He stops in the doorway when Jack looks up and says to him, “You haven’t been home in a while.”

“You didn’t sleep last night,” Ianto counters. “Did you sit up and watch him the whole time?”

“No,” Jack answers with a grin. “I watched you for some of it.”

Trying not to return the smile, Ianto steps lightly into the office. Jack’s trousers are too big for him and the belt is cinched too tight. He fidgets, stuffing his hands in the pockets. “He’s very… calm. What did you give him?”

“ ‘CALM.’ ”

“Right. And should I even ask exactly what that is?”

“Moods. Manufactured moods. Won’t be invented for… a couple billion years, I think.”

“A couple of… billion? He’s from that far in the future?”

“No. But I’m sure he’s been. Time-travel goes backward _and_ forward, you know,” Jack says with a smirk. Ianto turns to peer through the glass into the hub and while he is distracted thinking about that, Jack sneaks up behind him. He leans back when Jack slides his arms around his waist, whispering, “You know, not that I don’t love the way you look in my clothes… or anything… or nothing, really-”

“Jack.”

“You could run home, if you wanted. Change into a clean suit? I know you’re itching with impropriety right now.”

Ianto shrugs, knocking Jack’s chin with his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Really, it’s-”

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Ianto says, firmly. “Every time that happens, he kills you.”

“He’s pretty incapacitated at the moment. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, I’ll… tie him up.”

“He spent five years with you?” Ianto accuses, looking over his shoulder at Jack. “Yes, I’m sure a bit of rope will pose quite a challenge.”

Jack laughs in his ear, hot breath over his skin. Shivering, Ianto turns in his embrace and runs his fingers through Jack’s hair, pulling him into a kiss. He feels cool air hit the small of his back and grabs Jack’s hands, stopping them from pulling his shirttails out completely.

“Not here.” Not with _him_ just outside. Ianto starts to draw Jack toward the hatch in the floor, but Jack stops still. Ianto studies him closely and says, “You’ve not gone down there much in the last few weeks.”

Shaking his head, Jack shrugs. He tugs his hands out of Ianto’s grasp and sits just at the edge of his desk. “You really shouldn’t blame him, Ianto. You don’t know what it was like. What I was like.”

Anger wells up inside of him, but Ianto tamps it down as best he can. He walks to the other side of the room and leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could I?”

Jack looks up, but it’s like he’s not seeing what is right in front of him. “You don’t want to know-” he stops himself and then looks up into Ianto’s eyes. “ _I_ …” Jack emphasizes, “I don’t want you to know. Ianto, it’s been… so long for me. For him, it may have been only ten years or less. He still remembers the me I used to be. The one I never want to be again. I don’t want you to see that. I don’t want you to _know_ that about me. You’re better. He could have been better if not for me. I don’t know. So, no, I don’t know what to do with him.”

“I’d like to go down there and strangle him to death, if it’s alright with you.” Ianto’s voice is gruff and low.

Jack stands abruptly and crosses the room to Ianto, stopping just inches away. “No,” he whispers, placing his hands on Ianto’s shoulders, “you wouldn’t. That’s not who you are.”

 

\- **When a man assumes leadership, he forfeits the right to mercy**.  
\- Gennaro Angiulo

 

Jack leads the way, striding purposefully down the darkened corridors. He can sense Ianto behind him, following uneasily. When he reaches the archway, he turns and gestures with a sweep of his arm for Ianto to precede him. Hesitating, Ianto gives Jack a curious, searching look, before entering the darkness. Reaching around the wall, Jack flips a switch, illuminating the underground shooting range.

“Why are we down here, sir?”

“I told you, you need field training, and tomorrow we’re all going out into the field, so… let’s see you shoot.” With a flourish, Jack pulls a sheet off a table to reveal the array of weaponry laid out.

Ianto surveys the arsenal with a keen eye. “Have you been planning this all day?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s just… well, you’ve been… well, _not_ in the hub all day.” Ianto flushes as his eyes dart away and he mumbles, “I was looking for you earlier. Tosh asked where you were.”

“Oh.” Jack folds his arms, feigning indifference. “Only Tosh, huh?”

“It’s barely been a week, sir. They’ll come around.”

“Well, they’ll have to, won’t they?” Jack presents his best, most brilliant smile. “We’ll all be spending the next few days in the country. Nothing like sharing a tent to really bring teammates together.”

Warily, Ianto asks, “You’re making us all go camping?”

“Yep!” Jack nods, grinning. Then he shakes his head. “No. There is a legitimate reason for going, I just thought we should make the most of the opportunity. Get out of the city, enjoy nature…” he trails off and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Which is why,” he says, suddenly, pointing to Ianto, “you need to have some practice. I’m hoping it won’t be necessary when we get out there, but you need to be proficient with a firearm. Here we can determine which one you’re most comfortable with.”

“Sir, I’ve had weapons training and I’ve gone… armed before.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t comfortable with it, are you?” He stares at Ianto for a long moment until Ianto looks away, neither really wanting to be reminded of the last time he’d been armed. Instead, Jack busies himself setting Ianto up. Goggles, ear defenders. He puts the first gun - an old fashioned revolver, much like the one he himself carries - in Ianto’s hands, making sure he has the grip right, before placing his hands on Ianto’s shoulders, pulling them straight to align his back. His hands drift down to Ianto’s hips, adjusting his stance.

Ianto looks over his shoulder at Jack and clears his throat quite loudly. Backing off, hands raised in surrender, Jack laughs. “Alright. You’ve got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack nods and gestures for him to begin. Ianto progresses through each of the weapons in rapid succession. He accepts Jack’s guidance with solemn determination and asks for help as needed. When Ianto has finished, finding the gun that suits him best, Jack retrieves the targets and brings them over to examine. “You hit the shoulder, arm, leg, side. Missed the head and heart every time.”

Ianto pops the clip out and sets the gun down, carefully. “All debilitating shots, sir, and I hit what I was aiming for,” he insists, looking up into Jack’s eyes. “We don’t always have to go for the kill.”

“We don’t _have_ to, no,” Jack replies, drawing the words out. “But can you?” He folds his arms and stares at Ianto. “You hesitated. When you could have shot me, you hesitated. Sometimes it’s kill or be killed, Ianto.”

Ianto blanches, looking away. “I know,” he responds, nodding his head slowly. He pauses, shoulders hunched, and frowns, his brow wrinkling up. His voice comes out much softer than before. “You don’t always go for the kill, Jack.”

They stare at one another for a long time in the empty shooting range, a faint _drip, drip_ echoing in the background. Uncrossing his arms and loosening his stance, Jack lets the tension flow free, out of his body. A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face as he says, “You remind me of someone I used to know, Ianto Jones.”

Seemingly frozen, Ianto remains staring for a moment longer. He blinks and looks away. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Is this all, or was there something else we needed to do?”

“Nope. We’re done here.” Jack begins the process of clearing up and putting away each of the weapons. Ianto helps and they get everything cleaned and packed up quickly.

On the way back up into the hub, Ianto breaks the silence. “Do you need me to gather equipment or anything for the trip?”

“No, I took care of it. Be here bright and early tomorrow for the briefing. I’ll fill everyone in quickly. We’ll need to leave as soon as possible.” Jack glances at his watch. “I’m going to send a message to everyone in a few hours and tell them what they’ll need to pack.” He looks Ianto up and down and says, “You’ll definitely want to wear something a little more… casual.”

“I do own jeans, sir.”

“Yes, I remember.” Jack grins, watching Ianto closely until he fidgets and looks away.

“Do you know what it is? What we’ll be looking for?” Ianto asks, still not looking Jack in the eye.

Shaking his head, Jack starts walking toward his office again. “The report is on my desk. I’ll grab it and you can take a look at it before you go.” He stops, turns, and gives Ianto a pleading look. “Coffee?”

Nodding, Ianto heads off to the kitchen and Jack enters his office, taking a seat behind his desk. He shuffles the papers around, laying his brief report out on the corner. He looks up and smiles when Ianto returns with a steaming cup of coffee. Just one, he notes. “Thanks, Ianto.”

“No problem, sir.” Ianto sets the cup down on the desk. Dipping his head, he picks up the file and scans it quickly. “Missing persons? Isn’t this really a job for the police?”

“Keep reading.” Jack sips his coffee, waiting for Ianto to get to the part about it happening every ten years or so.

“Ah. I suppose that is strange,” Ianto agrees, flipping the file shut and replacing it on the desk. He stands up straight, shifting awkwardly. “Um… This is my new address, sir.” He pulls a folded bit of paper from his pocket and hands it over to Jack.

Taking the paper from him, Jack brushes his thumb, experimentally, across Ianto’s knuckles. “You’ve moved already?”

Shrugging, Ianto pulls his hand back and stuffs it into his pocket. “Didn’t really have much to move.”

“Right.” Jack nods and leans back in his chair. “I’ll update your file then.”

“I already did that.” A tiny flicker of an almost-smile briefly twitches at Ianto’s lips, but it’s too quick to tell. He bobs his head as he leaves, saying softly, “Goodnight. Sir.”

\---

Jack sits on the floor of his office at the top of the ladder, feet dangling into the hatch below, waiting for the tell-tale sound of Ianto exiting his bathroom. He peers in at the noise, saying quickly, but softly, “I know you keep some spare clothes around here somewhere, but I couldn’t find them, so I left you some of mine there on the bed.”

Ianto appears below, his face tipped up to Jack in a sliver of light, with a towel around his waist. He steps gingerly to the bed, inspecting the soft flannel pants and white cotton t-shirt that Jack has left out for him. Jack tries not to watch as the towel slips away from Ianto’s hips before the trousers come up to cover his bare skin, but turns back when Ianto groans, struggling to pull the t-shirt over his head.

“I’ve also left you some painkillers and a glass of water there.” Jack points to the side table near the bed. He listens to Ianto’s shuffling movements, hears the plastic crinkle of the blister pack, long gulps of water and the dull thud of an empty glass hitting wood. The bedsprings creak and moan as weight is shifted about and there’s a rustling of the sheets.

“I’ve never slept in here before.” Ianto’s voice is husky, with just the slightest emphasis on ‘slept.’

Shifting his feet, Jack debates whether to stay or go. “Well,” he laughs quietly, “it ain’t the Ritz, but it’s good enough for me.”

“Yeah, s’not bad,” Ianto mumbles.

“How’s the head?”

“Fine.”

“And everything else? Do you need anything?”

There’s a long pause and Jack thinks Ianto is asleep. He should have taken him home hours ago, instead of dragging him further into Torchwood’s mess. Jack mentally kicks himself for his thoughtlessness. Bad enough he’d nearly got them all killed. But he’d been relieved when Ianto had asked to come with him. He hates going out to that place and seeing all the people he can’t save. At least it hadn’t been a new one, no new rift victims, only a minor emergency, and Helen had taken care of it. He thinks Ianto had handled it well.

“I wanted you to kill them.”

“Ianto?”

“When you came in to… to save us, I remember thinking that I wanted you to kill them.” There’s a creaking noise and Ianto sits up, the light falling across his face again. “I was relieved, so relieved to see you. Just like with Lisa.” He makes a pained face and looks down, whispering, “I was happy to let go, let you take over.” He lies back down, rolling onto his side and curling up, so that Jack can still, mostly, see his face. “I’m glad you didn’t, but I wanted you to. I think I would have. I might have. I don’t know. Is that the person I am now? To wish people dead?”

“Ianto…” Jack starts, but stops, because he honestly can’t think of anything to say to that. Taking a deep breath, he tries again. “It’ll get better. The pain will fade. Trust me.” He waits for a response, anything, but there’s only darkness. He starts to rise, pulling his feet out of the hole and crouching to get his balance before standing up.

“Jack,” Ianto calls from below.

“Yeah?” He stoops to look into the hatch again.

“I don’t want to kill you, Jack. I never wanted to kill anyone,” Ianto murmurs. There is another long pause and Ianto shifts around to lie on his back. “Well, maybe Owen, sometimes.”

Jack laughs out loud, a harsh breath of relief more than anything. “The painkillers must be kicking in if you’re making jokes.”

“Who’s joking?” Ianto moves around again, until his face appears below. “Are you going to stay up there until morning?”

“It’s already morning,” Jack reminds him. “I’ll just be up here at my desk. I’m writing the report.” Jack doesn’t say, _‘So that nobody else has to,’_ but he thinks Ianto gets it, anyway. “Get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Ianto exhales, noisily, rolling onto his side and facing away from the light.

 

\- **Why is it that fools always have the instinct to hunt out the unpleasant secrets of life, and the hardiness to mention them**?  
\- Emily Eden

 

“Ianto!” Jack calls out from his office when all the lights flicker again.

“I know!” he calls back, head and shoulders still buried beneath the desk and part of the floor.

From her work station, Gwen’s voice sails over to him, “Ianto, my monitor’s gone blank again.”

“I know, Gwen. I’m still working on it.”

“You know, you’re doing that completely backward.”

Ianto slams his head on the underside of the desk as he scrambles away, staring up at John in horror. “Jack!”

There’s the sound of footsteps thudding across the floor and Jack appears. He waves Gwen back; she’s already moving forward, gun raised. “It’s alright. I’ve got it.”

She stops, but doesn’t lower her weapon, aiming it, instead, right at John’s head. “You can’t be up here. Jack, why isn’t he lit up like a Christmas tree?”

“No,” John says slowly, as if speaking to a very stupid child, “the cuff can’t be up here. And it’s not.” He points toward the med bay, where the ankle cuff is sitting on the table, then turns back to Jack. “And Eye Candy is going to fry the circuits, and himself probably, if he keeps that up.”

Glaring at John, Ianto gets to his feet, leaving a tangle of wires spilling all over the floor. He shoots a furtive look at Jack.

“Now, if you weren’t so blind, you’d see…” John trails off, stooping to peer under the desk. “Bloody hell, what _have_ you been trying to do here?” He drops to the floor and crawls underneath the desk.

“Jack?” Gwen takes another step forward, gun in hand and ready.

He waves her back again and moves closer to the desk, putting himself between Ianto and John. Placing a hand on Ianto’s arm, he murmurs, “It’s alright. I’ll watch him. He’s somewhat of an idiot savant when it comes to this stuff.” Offering a reassuring smile, Jack crouches on the floor to peer under the desk. “Watch that,” he warns, pointing to something that Ianto can’t see.

“I won’t get electrocuted. I know what I’m doing,” John retorts, his voice partially muffled. “You’ve got her all twisted up here. 21st century apes, don’t know a thing about technology,” he mutters. “Hold this.” He reaches back and grabs Jack’s hand, pulling it under the desk with him.

“Jack, I don’t-”

“We’ve got it, Ianto,” Jack says, popping his head back out and smiling up at him. “Really.”

“Yeah, just let me fix what you’ve buggered up under here. Jack, really, just because it looks nice in a fancy suit…” John scoffs and there is a loud clunk from beneath the floor grating.

Jack turns his head and fires back, “Coming from you? I think I’ll let that one pass.” He looks up at Ianto again with an apologetic smile and says, “Ignore him,” before disappearing back under the desk without waiting for any type of response or acknowledgement.

John’s muffled voice draws Ianto’s attention again. “D’you see what would have happened if he’d kept going this way?”

And Jack’s softer, but distinguishable, “Oh yeah. Damn, but if we…” he trails off, his head and shoulders under the floor with just his legs sticking out now.

A moment later, John emerges, briefly, smirking. “Why don’t you make yourself useful, Eye Candy, and go make some tea? No sugar.” Then he crawls back under with Jack, but Ianto hears, “Where _do_ you pick them up, Jack?”

Ianto walks away before he can hear Jack’s reply, if there is one. He does not take orders from rude… prisoners. If Jack asks for tea then he’ll make tea. He tugs at his waistcoat, smoothing out the wrinkles and adjusting his tie. It really does feel so much better being in his own clothes again. He smiles at Gwen, now sitting behind her work station, and starts to ask if she needs anything, but the look on her face stops him.

Sometimes, Gwen seems a little bit psychic, because she just _knows_ what’s going through his head. Other times she’s painfully oblivious, but Ianto can forgive that. Her monitor is still blinking in and out, so she slides a stack of papers over to him and asks, “Could you scan through those for me real quick? Make sure it’s all in order?”

She’s trying to distract him and he silently thanks her for it. Mentally checking everything off as he reads through her reports, a loud clank and raucous laughter startle him. He looks up to find that Jack has crawled out from under the floor, wire twisted round his ankles and John is trying to untangle him. They are both laughing, still talking rapidly, animatedly about… Ianto can’t hear their words clearly from across the hub, but Jack is smiling and laughing that deep, full-bodied laugh that none of them have heard in weeks.

 

\- **Jealousy is predominantly concerned with the fear of loss of something one possesses; envy, with the wish to own something another possesses**.  
\- Anthony Storr

 

“Are we going to be able to save any of these?” Gwen asks, chewing her lip as she scrutinizes a selected few pictures.

“Don’t worry,” Ianto assures her, wiggling his fingers above the keyboard, “I’m a master with Photoshop. You’ll have plenty of pictures to show your friends.”

The images scroll by on the screen quickly, just flashing light, insubstantial, and nothing more. Not like the old photographs that Jack keeps in his desk, tangible evidence of a life lived, making the stories behind them so much richer.

Ianto turns his head and gives her a smile. “It will be a little more difficult explaining why all of their cameras and mobiles went haywire, I think, but you needn’t worry about that. Tosh took care of most of it this time, and she received a big box of chocolates from you and Rhys.”

“She did?” Gwen asks, surprised.

“Yes, she did. And something else from Jack, but don’t ask her about that one. Oh. Here’s a good one that won’t have to be doctored at all.” He stops scrolling and highlights a single image, bringing it to the foreground and enlarging it. “You dancing with Jack.”

She and Jack are caught mid-laugh, both of their heads tilted back, her arms hanging loosely around his neck. They look carefree and happy and beautiful together.

Gwen smiles widely, the gap in her teeth showing. Glancing at Ianto, she winks. “May be best to keep that one out of the album, eh? Rhys is still… well you know.” She rolls her eyes and presses a key to continue sorting through the pictures. “Oh, but this one’s good!” She nudges him with her elbow. “ _You_ dancing with Jack. I think Tosh took it.”

The picture is taken from an odd angle, canted and far enough away that both of their feet are visible. Ianto’s face is obscured, pressed into Jack’s neck, their entwined hands held against his chest. Jack’s cheek rests against Ianto’s hair, eyes closed; he has a soft smile and an indecipherable expression on his face.

Ianto stares at the picture, wanting to reach out and touch it, make it real. “He does look nice in that one.”

“You both do.” Gwen highlights the image and clicks save, sending it to the folder to be printed out. “I definitely want to keep that one.”

“I suppose Rhys wouldn’t mind that one in your wedding album then?” Ianto teases.

“I must say, he was _pleased_ when you cut in. Even though I’ve told him a million times he has nothing to worry about. Ever,” the last word is whispered, a soft breath. She holds her left hand up, admiring the ring on her finger with the sweetest of smiles and a rising blush on her cheeks.

“Well, he’d know that if he could see you now.” She glances up at Ianto and he smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.”

“I do like being Mrs. Williams.” She waggles her fingers in front of her face, the small diamond sparkling in the low light. She gently bumps Ianto with her shoulder. “I’ve seen you walking around with that little smile on your face every now and then. Jack must be doing something right.”

Ianto isn’t blushing, he absolutely is not. But he turns his face away. Just in case. Cutting his eyes back to her, he finds she is grinning at him and he says, “Have you seen his hands? His hands are huge.”

Gwen giggles, her eyes lighting up. “I am sorry. For… interrupting.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No. I’m not,” she sniggers again.

“Hey, kids. You talking about me?”

They both jump when Jack appears behind them. He leans forward, his head between theirs, and grins.

Gwen places her palm over his forehead and gently pushes him back. “No, Jack. What an ego, think everyone spends their time talking about you, you do. Ianto’s just helping me with my wedding album.”

“Ooh! Any good ones of me?” Jack reaches forward to take the mouse, but Ianto covers it with his hand.

“Actually, we’re rather fond of this one, Jack,” he states, scrolling through and highlighting one, enlarging it for Jack to see.

“How in the..?” The image is blurry, but clear enough to see Jack getting punched by Rhys.

Gwen covers her mouth, laughing. “Oh! Rhys’s mam. She has one of those new camera phones and she’s always hitting buttons, never knows what she’s doing.”

Jack frowns. “I don’t think that’s something you’ll want in your album for the grandkids to see.”

“I dunno,” Ianto says, “I thought Rhys might like to keep it. Maybe frame it, put it up over the mantle.”

“We haven’t got a mantle.”

“You’ll get one just for this picture.”

“Ah,” Jack ignores them, “here’s a good one.” He selects one of Gwen with Rhys up at the altar just after they’ve given their vows. They are turned toward the guests, smiling. “You both look perfect.” He smiles and kisses the top of her head. Ianto catches his eye and gives him a tiny, understanding…

… _look passes over his face as Jack hands him the photograph, softly saying, “I thought she’d be my life. I let myself believe and we made plans. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about it. Ianto, do you-” and Ianto cuts him off, “I did… after. I used to think, ‘We’ll get married when she’s better. We’ll have a family when she’s better. We’ll do this, that, everything… when she’s better.’ But…” he shakes his head, “no , I didn’t think about it before. I was just happy being with her, in that moment. I didn’t start planning the future until I didn’t have a present. Jack,” he reaches out, cupping Jack’s chin in his palm, “I’m not thinking about it now.” And, in agreement, they both_ …

… smile, somehow knowing Jack’s thoughts, because he’s thought them, too.

“You both _will_ look perfect,” Jack amends, “after Ianto cleans it up and gets rid of the Nostrovite blood.” He puts his arm around Ianto’s shoulder, pulling him closer, and kisses him on the temple. Ianto lets himself fall into the embrace, just a little bit, wondering when they got here, where ‘here’ is, and where ‘here’ will go.

Then the moment passes and Jack is moving away, smoothly redirecting their focus again. The master of deflection.

“O-ho!” Jack laughs, that full, open laugh, highlighting an image on the screen. It’s Gwen, heavily pregnant in her wedding gown splattered with black blood, hair flying wildly about her face, a bouquet in one hand, gun in the other. Owen is next to her with a shocked look on his face. “We should keep this one. You know, strictly for the archives.”

 

\- **Well, it's cold and it's quiet and cobblestone cold in here. Fucking for fear of not wanting to fear again. Lonely is all we are, lovely so far, but my heart's still a marble in an empty jelly jar**.  
\- TV on the Radio, Young Liars

 

Contrary to popular belief, Jack is not solely driven by his libido. He uses flirting the same way Ianto uses polite reserve. It keeps people at a distance. Show them a bright shiny surface and they won’t try to see what’s hidden beneath. It’s all sleight of hand. The words are only illusion; Jack is a man of actions. Ianto has a feeling that Jack wasn’t always like this, but can’t imagine him any other way.

Not when they are here, together.

Undressing a man is a bit strange. It’s sort of like undressing himself, only backwards, and not at all like undressing himself, he decides later. Jack’s skin is always smooth and soft; his face never, ever gets that scratchy, stubble like Ianto’s. Jack is broad across the chest and shoulders. He looks much bigger out of his clothes, too. His arms, strong and well muscled, can fit completely around Ianto’s body, holding him secure.

This is not their first time together, but it is the first time they’re both completely naked. So strong, so firm, Jack’s hands…

… _lift him up off the cold, filthy stone floor, running fingers over his scalp and wiping away the tears. His hands, those big, strong hands. Jack whispers to him, “Shh, Ianto, it’s alright. Were you having flashbacks? You’re safe here. I swear.” And all he can do is gasp in ragged breaths, trying to push it all away, everything, even her, and just cling to Jack. But this is wrong. “Stop. Stop.”_ Stop being nice to me! _He shoves Jack’s hands away from him, scrabbling back against the stone wall, rough under_ …

… his sweaty palms, Jack’s hair gets tangled in his fingers. And, dear God, the smell of him… Ianto moans as Jack’s hands leave a burning trail over his skin and those knots in his stomach start to uncoil. He laughs. _Laughs!_ How does Jack always do that to him? His mind whites out and his body heats up and that fluttering in his stomach can’t be what it feels like. The way he holds onto Jack can’t be what it seems. The way _Jack_ is holding onto him… it can’t.

It’s been months… long, long _months_ since his world shattered and crumbled around him. Time frozen yet speeding forward. This is just the in-between. This part doesn’t matter. When she’s well, life will start again. But this… _this!_ He shouldn’t feel safe here, shouldn’t let himself smile when Jack smiles, shouldn’t find it so easy to make Jack laugh, shouldn’t let himself forget that gnawing feeling deep in his gut, even for only a few moments when his brain is screaming, _‘Help me, please!_ ’ but the words get lodged in his throat. He shouldn’t let himself forget that none of this is real; the Jack before him is not real; this Ianto Jones is not real.

And he shouldn’t want this so much.

When Jack asks, “Alright?” Ianto closes his eyes and nods, for fear his voice would shake too much. And when Jack is kissing him he can’t remember why he was here in the first place.

 

\- **Without a firm idea of himself and the purpose of his life, man cannot live and would sooner destroy himself than remain on earth** …  
\- Fyodor Dostoyevsky

 

The lights flicker once, twice, burn steadily brighter for about three seconds and then settle back into the normal dusky glow of the hub. The rift monitor bleeps into life and data begins filling the screen.

“Ha-ha!” Jack bounces up, a wide grin on his face. He grabs John by the hand and hauls him to his feet, as well. He lets go at the barely concealed hiss of pain from John, who pulls back, cradling his arm against his chest. His sleeve bunches up to reveal the newly healed skin and forming scar tissue on his forearm.

Gwen looks up from her phone call with a concerned look on her face, but Jack waves his hand at her. He apologizes with a quiet, “Sorry,” and backs off a bit, dusting off his knees. “You should have had someone take a look at that.”

“What good would that do? I had it under control.” If the glazed look he’d had in his eyes was anything to go by, then Jack guesses he knows how. “Stupid, bloody, backward planet,” John mutters, patting his pockets.

“Come on.” Jack reaches out, but John backs away. Rolling his eyes, Jack repeats, “Come on down here and let me fix that for you.”

“Oh, you’ve got a miracle cure, have you? Some nanogenes just lying around maybe?” He’s still muttering even as he follows Jack down to the med bay. He stops short when Jack holds up the antiseptic and bandages. “Oh, you are joking. Bunch of primitives. I could have had this fixed up and looking perfect again in no time if we were… And you’ve been rotting here _how long_?”

Jack drops the roll of bandages onto the table. “Just shy of two-thousand years. Remember?”

John’s only reaction is to look away, down at the table. Calmly, Jack holds out his hand and says, “Give me your arm before it gets infected.”

“Yeah, just… one second,” John mutters, carefully removing his coat and searching the pockets. “Where are…”

“Looking for this?” Jack holds up the little packet and dangles it in his face. John makes a grab for it, but Jack yanks it just out of reach. He almost laughs at that petulant pout on John’s face, the one he actually remembers so well, and tosses the packet to him. As John rifles through and slaps a patch on his neck, Jack chides him, “You know those aren’t exactly safe. Not the way you’re using them.”

“Do I look like I care? I was never meant to live this long, anyway.” He seems to realize what he’s said and drops his eyes again, but allows Jack to take his arm and wipe it with the antiseptic. Jack rolls the clean bandage around his forearm, but stops when John speaks again. “Seriously, how can you stand it here? What would you stay for?”

Taping the bandage off, Jack meets his eye. “I’ve always had reasons.”

 

\- **Travel light and you can sing in the robber’s face**.  
\- Juvenal

 

Jack wakes with a gasp, sucking air into his deprived lungs. _Again_. The gun is still in his hand, fingers curled loosely. He pushes himself up with one arm, blood dripping down his back and pooling on the floor, seeping into the cracks and grooves of the splintering wood. Someone is banging on the door, a woman’s voice crying through, yelling for him to open up _‘right this minute!’_ Jack ignores her and reaches for the half-empty whiskey bottle. His third of the night.

Closing his eyes, he sees her beautiful smile lighting up her face and can almost hear her deep, throaty laugh. Their wonderful new life together, cut short almost the instant they’d stepped off the boat.

He’d known something wasn’t right. Stuck on a planet for over twenty years and not aging a day, that wasn’t natural even back in the 51st century. But he’d attributed it to the effects of time-travel, pushing it out of his mind. After arriving in the wrong time, and learning that he’d only _just_ missed the Doctor, from Charles Dickens no less, and _years_ of hoping, he’d tried to make a life for himself. He’d met the most beautiful, extraordinary, amazing woman, far ahead of her time. And he had really thought that he could make it here.

But when he’d woken up, she was there, lying in the street, her bright eyes dull and staring up into the torrential rain, blood soaking through the elegant lavender dress he’d purchased for her the night before they’d left for America. The crowds of people and screaming and chaos and the man who’d murdered them long gone with all of their things. Jack had held her and cried for the first time since the Game Station.

Draining the bottle, Jack plays with the revolver in his hands. Six times he’s tried.

Throwing the one heavy quilt over the bloodstained floor, Jack unlocks and opens the door to stop the incessant pounding.

“Mister, I don’t know what you think-”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, smiling, wondering if the blood on his back and neck is visible. “I was trying to the move the bed away from the window. I’ll try to keep the noise down.” He closes the door before the frumpy woman can protest, throwing the bolt and sliding a small wooden barrel in front of it for good measure.

Resuming his seat in the rickety chair by the wooden crate that serves as a table, Jack picks up the bottle again. He watches as the light from the candle flickers, casting wild and weird shadows about the room.

He couldn’t save his beautiful bride. And he can’t join her, either.

“Doctor, what did you do to me?”

There must be a reason. Something. He has no choice now. This isn’t a life.

Capping the bottle, Jack snuffs the candle out and lies down on the bare, single bed. Alone. He lies there for hours, unable to fall asleep.

He has to find the Doctor. He will. He’ll return to the rift and wait. No matter how long it takes.

 

\- **One needs something to believe in, something for which one can have whole-hearted enthusiasm. One needs to feel that one's life has meaning, that one is needed in this world**.  
\- Hannah Senesh

 

Coming up the steps out of the med bay, Jack glances around the hub, looking for Ianto. He hadn’t noticed him leave.

“He’s down in the archives,” Gwen tells him, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Go on. I can handle myself.” With her gun, she gestures toward John down in the med bay.

Grinning, Jack says, “You have my permission to restrain him, and use all necessary force, if you have to.”

“Mine, too,” John pipes up, leering.

“Shut up, you,” Gwen calls, flicking Jack an ‘OK’ sign as he passes.

He finds Ianto in the tiny office just off the main corridor down in the sub-basement. He’s sitting at the desk with his back to the door, head bent low, the lights from the computer screen washing him in an eerie blue.

“Hey, we got the rift alarm and the predictor working.”

Ianto makes no sign of acknowledging Jack, apart from a succinct, “That’s great.”

“So…” Jack stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets and ambles into the room. “So, Hot Stuff, what ya doing?” At that, Ianto turns his head, one eyebrow raised. Jack laughs. “Not that one, either?”

“Try again, Captain.” Shaking his head, Ianto turns back to the computer screen.

“Really, what are you doing?”

“Just scanning all the old files into the computer. I should be finished with the archives in… Oh, about five years barring any unforeseen incidents.” He glances back and gives Jack a small, encouraging smile before returning to his work. “The way some of these were kept, I’m surprised they lasted this long. Team photos. Lots of them.” Ianto holds one up, and Jack grins at him, waggling his eyebrows and coming closer. Flustered, Ianto turns away, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Oh God, you shagged every single one them, didn’t you?”

Jack’s grin widens as he leans over Ianto’s shoulder. “I’ll have you know, Mr. ‘I know everything,’ that I did not make a habit of fooling around with Torchwood staff.” A photo of a single woman catches his eye. He reaches out, finger hovering over the image, tracing her outline. “Emlyn.”

“Ah. You made an exception for her?”

“She made the exception for me, I think.” Jack gestures at the photo and Ianto hands it over to him. Holding it up to the light, Jack declares, “She was the embodiment of the sixties. A free spirit if ever there was one.”

Ianto turns his chair and looks up at Jack. “Sounds right up your alley.”

“I didn’t have many friends within the institute. She was one.” Jack, very carefully, lays the photo down on the desktop.

“What happened?” Ianto asks, staring at the woman in the photo.

Leaning against the near wall, Jack crosses his arms. “She met a man. Only he wasn’t a man. Hardly even looked like a man.” He smiles at Ianto, but his eyes are cloudy. “They left this planet together.”

“Are you having me on?” Spinning his chair around, Ianto narrows his eyes, but Jack just grins. “Her file says she was killed in action,” Ianto remarks, waving toward the stacks of files on the desk.

“And who filled out the report?” Jack asks, pushing away from the wall and crowding Ianto into the desk, leaning over him.

“The agent’s name is smudged out.” The corner of Ianto’s lip curls up, just slightly, and Jack leans forward to kiss the very tip of his nose. He drifts lower, lips brushing against lips, and Ianto whispers, “She left you.”

Jack stills, stands up straight. “She found something better. There was no reason for them to think her a traitor. No reason she shouldn’t be left alone.”

“And you lied to protect her.”

“Like I said, I wasn’t really part of it then. Torchwood were a little undecided on how much they wanted others to know about me. What with my… unique abilities and all,” he smirks, eyes widening, and Ianto chuckles. More seriously, Jack says, “They used it as a way to keep me in line. Threatened to expose me to various other… organizations, while keeping me separate from the rest of the team. Held me up as their pet freak,” he mutters, barely able to hide the flinch.

“Is that why you aren’t in any of the group pictures?”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, shifting his weight, uncomfortably. “My file was kept separate from everyone else. I thought I’d got rid of it, but clearly I underestimated London.” He tilts his head and lifts one eyebrow at Ianto. Shifting again, he continues, “Alex was the first one to really include me.”

“Alex Hopkins?”

“Yeah. He was a good man, despite what you may have read in his file in London.”

Ianto leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I read that he let you keep your secret. That from nineteen-ninety-four onwards the other members of Torchwood Three were unaware of your immortality.”

Jack nods again. “That’s when I had to start being careful again never to die in front of anyone.”

“Oh, well if that’s all it takes to get you to be careful…” Ianto shuffles backward in the chair. This room is too small, too close. Jack watches him fidget in his seat, waiting. Ianto looks up again, asks, “Were you and he..?”

“No.” Jack shakes his head. “He was just a friend. Someone I could talk to, but…” Jack shrugs. “He made me part of a team. He gave me more than just… waiting. And ways to pass the time.” Reaching out, Jack pulls Ianto up by the hand and wraps his arms around him, holding Ianto against him. “That’s not what you are to me, Ianto.”

Ianto starts to shake his head. “I wasn’t-”

Jack shushes him with a finger to his lips. “I’m used to being on my own. Looking out for me and only me. I spent years trying never to let myself get involved and sometimes it was so hard…” _And I couldn’t help it, but I always knew it wouldn’t last… couldn’t let it_.

“I like having a partner,” he continues, “belonging to someone. And it’s been a while, but I like having that one person that knows me, and decides to stick around anyway.” He tips Ianto’s face up with one finger under his chin and kisses him softly on the mouth. He’s mildly surprised when Ianto’s hands grasp the back of his neck, pulling him closer, lips and teeth and tongue mashing together. They stumble and crash into the chair, knocking files to the floor and making the computer wobble precariously on the desk.

Backed up against the wall, bodies flush together, every inch touching, Ianto forces a hand between them and pushes Jack away, just enough room to speak.

“But you always find someone.” In the dim light, Ianto’s eyes shine and Jack could lose an eternity staring into them. Ianto brushes Jack’s lips with a fingertip. “Don’t close yourself off to people again. Always try to let someone in. Throughout the years in your lifetime, always find someone, Jack.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Jack’s mouth. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

With a sigh, Jack drops his head to Ianto’s shoulder. “You really know how to kill a mood, don’t you? I was about to suggest we go find a blind spot.”

He feels Ianto smile against his neck. “There are no cameras in here.”

\---

When they emerge from the dark stairwell into the hub, Ianto drops Jack’s hand, but their clothes are disheveled, Ianto’s tie slightly askew and Jack’s shirt unmistakably off-kilter and wrinkled.

Gwen, one foot up on the railing with her gun still aimed at John’s head, grins at them as they enter. John takes one look and snorts. “Typical.”

Soundlessly, Ianto hurries off to the kitchen. Most likely just to get away, Jack thinks. He turns to Gwen, gesturing for her to lower her weapon. “I can take it from here.”

“We’re playing a game,” she practically sing-songs before her voice hardens. “He moves; I shoot him.”

Jack’s eyebrows go up into his hairline. “His idea, was it?”

“Yeah. I think he likes it.”

“From you, sweet cheeks,” John calls up to her, “anything.”

“Talking is moving,” she chastises, like one might a small child.

Glancing back and forth between them, Jack purses his lips. “Gwen, you do realize you’re only… arousing him, right?”

“’Course,” she replies, flippantly. “Fun though.” Stepping back, she holsters her gun and turns to Jack. “Guess he’s all yours now.” She turns abruptly and marches off through the hub.

“Oh, I like her, Jack.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Wasn’t allowed to move or speak, was I?”

Moving slowly and deliberately, Jack descends the steps and comes to a stop a few feet from John. Folding his arms over his chest, feet planted apart, he asks, “What am I supposed to do with you now? I can’t really just set you loose on the world. I really should have thought of that before, but…” He falters, closing his eyes for a moment. When he looks up again, John is watching him with a strange expression on his face.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Jack clears his throat. “And I can’t very well trust you to stay here, can I? So, what? Do I lock you in a cell?”

“I’d only escape. You know I would.” John smirks and they stare at one another for a long few seconds. He hops down off the table to stand a few inches away from Jack. “You know, there is a way I could be gone from this place. If you just-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No. No way.”

“You’re not going to bloody use it!” John all but yells in frustration. Then he stops, eyes narrowing to slits at Jack, and he asks, “Are you?”

Shaking his head, Jack refuses to answer. He simply states, “You’ve caused enough trouble for one lifetime. I can’t let you go.”

John remains silent for a few seconds, staring at him, likes he’s looking for something. Eventually, John just shakes his head and scoffs, “You’re not my bloody keeper. I’ll go where I like and do what I like. Or _who_ I like.” He flicks his eyes across the hub, toward the rattling noises coming from the kitchen.

“Leave him alone.”

“Ooh, or what? Concerned for your good little soldier? Afraid I’ll corrupt him? I promise to return him in near new condition. Well, maybe slightly used.”

Jack turns his head, looking away, anywhere but at John, with his arms wrapped around himself. Rigid and tense.

“Oh, relax, would you. You’ve got this one so well trained…” John’s voice starts strong, but peters out into a barely audible mutter, “doesn’t even see anyone but you.”

“I know loyalty is a foreign concept to you.”

John makes a huffing sound through his nose. “ _Loyalty_? You wouldn’t know loyalty if it came up and… said, ‘Hey, look at me, I’m loyalty!’ _You’re_ the one that abandons people on ignorant, ill-bred, out of the way planets. Left me right in the middle of a crisis, I might add.”

Jack winces, but manages to hide it from John by biting his cheek. Instead, he says, “You pushed me off a building.”

“You got back up again.”

“You didn’t know that would happen!” Jack stops, abruptly, running his hand over his hair. “I’m not getting into this with you. You’re exactly the same. I’ve changed.”

“Damn right, you’ve changed. You couldn’t even see a clear con when you were standing in it. The Jack I knew would have spotted that from miles off _and_ thought up a way to turn it around in his favor. But what did you do? You just let me go.”

“You’re upset that I _didn’t_ kill you?”

“No. Just sayin’ you’ve gone soft is all.”

 

\- **Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true**.  
\- Demosthenes

 

He’s just made Ianto laugh. Jack silently congratulates himself, for that seems a rare occurrence, and making Ianto laugh gives Jack that sharp, happy, tingly feeling in the center of his chest. The same feeling as when he gets Toshiko to realize her brilliance, as when Owen gets so caught up in excitement over his work that he loses that lost look in his eyes and becomes human again. The same feeling he gets when Suzie reaches out and asks for his help. Getting Ianto to laugh like that is quite an accomplishment.

The man in front of him, the man he’d let into his home, is not the boy that had stalked him so desperately a few weeks ago, looking for a way to deal with the shit that had befallen him. The way he had pleaded… The memories and the loss must be overwhelming for someone so young, Jack thinks. He hides it well.

He hides _himself_ very well behind his suits and his fabulous coffee and those little smiles and playful quips that always come at _just_ the right time. Though Jack does enjoy the flirting - he always enjoys the flirting - it’s not enough to fully quell the tiny voice in his head that is telling him to beware. Be _wary_. This man is from London. He was one of theirs.

Jack watches Ianto while he’s working. Sees the brief moments each day, only seconds, when he believes himself to be unobserved, when the walls crumble and something… wrong flashes over his face. It’s never more than a flicker before his features smooth out again. Ianto doesn’t seem to interact with the team much. He’s woven himself seamlessly into the hub. Made himself indispensable to them, become a vital component, almost unnoticeable in its subtlety. He’s always ready with coffee, lunch, the right file before they even have to ask, helpful suggestions, offers to stay late and do research. All without a word from the others. They don’t seem too bothered by it, and Jack feels he should encourage them to acknowledge Ianto more. But that change, that tiny… _collapse_ only happens when Ianto is alone. And Jack wants to figure that out.

He can hardly remember what it was like before Ianto; something inside him feels so much warmer these days. It could be just the thrill of learning someone new, seeing what makes him tick, makes him blush and, yes, what makes him laugh. Jack also really, really likes ogling Ianto in his suits.

But there’s always something else there, behind all of it. Each smile conceals a trace of sadness, his voice often tight and guarded. Any question Jack asks, a straight answer is just as likely as a simple deflection disguised as a joke. The frequent, and not altogether innocent, innuendoes from Jack are met equally with cracking wit or bland reproach, keeping things interesting. Ianto tends to run hot and cold, but almost always flirts back. On the few occasions when Ianto catches on that Jack isn’t entirely joking, he becomes a little flustered, blushing a bright pink against his dark, somber suits.

Other times, Ianto seems as carefree as any young man should be, sharing a joke and a laugh. Jack enjoys these times. He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, and looks Ianto up and down. “Was there something else you needed?”

Immediately, Ianto’s tapering laugh ends as he straightens from his place leaning against Jack’s desk. He adjusts his tie, smoothly, and clears his throat. “Actually, sir? I wanted to ask you about the funding for Toshiko’s program.”

Regretting the abrupt switch back to work, Jack sighs. “Like I said, we don’t have it.”

“But I may have found a way, sir. See?” Ianto spreads a folder open across Jack’s desk, leaning over and pointing to a line of numbers. “I was doing the expense report like you asked and there’s this reserve fund that isn’t being used for anything. Perhaps-”

“No,” Jack says, more harshly than he’d intended. “That’s off-limits.”

“But if you only divvied out a bit each month-”

“Ianto. I said no. It’s reserved for a reason.” Jack’s very own special projects, because it’s all he can do.

“Captain Harkness’s holiday fund?” Ianto asks, laughing a little, before stuttering, “Th-that was a joke.” He shifts his weight nervously as Jack stares up at him.

“You didn’t mention this to Tosh or anyone else yet, did you?” After Rusty, Jack can’t risk any of the others working on it.

“No, sir. I thought I’d bring it up with you first.”

“Good. Don’t. Not a word to anyone else.” Suzie is too clinical. She’d make a good leader someday - hopefully soon. She’s good at seeing the big picture, never letting the little things like emotions get in her way. Owen would see it strictly from a medical point of view, but Jack isn’t sure if that is a good thing or not. Toshiko… no, it would be wrong to burden her with this. He looks up into Ianto’s eyes again. He’s too new. Can’t trust him with this. “Don’t ask, Ianto. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

With one terse nod, Jack dismisses him. The chair creaks as Jack moves and he looks up sharply. “Do you smell motor oil? Grease?”

Ianto stops in his tracks and turns slowly back to face Jack. “I... was checking the SUV. It must have got on my hands or my shoes.” He holds his hands up in front of him, looking a little perplexed. Quickly, he takes another step toward the desk. “Come to think of it, sir, we could take the money we’ve been setting aside for the repairs on the lower levels. It’s all sealed off and it’s not as though we really need the space.” He reaches out and gently knocks on the surface of Jack’s desk.

“For Tosh’s program? Yeah, that could work.” Jack leans forward, elbows on his desk. “Let me tell her the good news?”

“Of course.” Ianto smiles, that fleeting not-quite smile, before gathering up his reports to leave. “And, sir? You really shouldn’t go around sniffing people. It’s creepy.”

And the flirting is back. Jack grins. “Oh, Ianto?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Uh, maybe some coffee?”

“Coming right up.”

“And, Ianto? Don’t spend all day down in the archives again. Go out. Get some sun.”

And _there_ , that tiny waver in Ianto’s expression, almost imperceptible, as he turns to leave.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

\- **You complain about nothing at all, go insane about nothing at all. You have no feelings; I think you are an alien being. You won't let me in; I think you are an alien being**.  
\- The Magnetic Fields, Alien Being

 

“… and I still say it wouldn’t have blown up if you’d just stopped screwing with it.”

“That was completely not my fault.”

“I told you, ‘Stop poking it.’ How is that not your fault?”

“Oh that could have meant anything.”

The voices of Jack and John echo off the walls of the medical bay and out into the hub, occasionally accompanied by clanking or thumping sounds that Ianto is sure he doesn’t want to know about, but will most likely have to clean up later. He nods at Gwen as she comes up the stairs. She grimaces at the bucket sitting by his feet, taking a few small steps closer, and asks, “Fish heads?”

“For Myfanwy. Want to help me?”

“Not really, but I suppose I could anyway.” She grins at him and he matches hers with one of his own.

“Grab that bottle there.” Ianto points to the squeezy bottle of ‘special sauce’ sitting nearby and dons a pair of thick rubber gloves. His jacket is safely hanging in Jack’s office and the sleeves of his pristine, plum-colored shirt are rolled up to the elbows. He looks up at Gwen. “Would you like to pour or serve?”

Laughing, a tiny little laugh, Gwen tips the bottle up and squeezes liberally into the bucket. The conversation across the hub has dimmed to background noise and Ianto wonders if Gwen is straining her ears to hear it, too. He dips his hand into the bucket of glop and swishes it around. It makes sickening, squishing sounds and Gwen makes a sickened, scrunched face.

“The sauce also helps with her digestion,” Ianto explains. “Less mess to clean up.” He picks up the bucket, careful not to spill, and feels Gwen watching him. She’s never had much to do with the care of the various beings under their roof; he should probably show her how, in case she ever has to do it. Tosh had had a peculiar, although passing, fascination with the pterodactyl and even Owen had known how to take care of the weevils.

“How do you-” Gwen starts, but stops as Ianto ties the bucket to a rope on a series of pulleys. “Oh. Is that new?”

He hits a little yellow button on the wall nearest him and the bucket begins its ascent. He presses another button next to the first and a small panel high above them slides open. Grabbing the rope with both hands - it takes a bit of practice, it’s not a perfect system and is one that could be improved, if Jack would ever get around to it - Ianto manages to tip the bucket neatly into a large trough without spilling any on himself or the area around him. It must be the smell that brings the pterodactyl out, clicking and scuttling her way from her ‘nest’, making for the slop, as Ianto slowly lowers the empty bucket back down.

“Neat.” Gwen smiles, until the smell hits her again. “I could try it next time,” she suggests, as if knowing what he’d been thinking.

Inclining his head, Ianto says, “Yeah,” and begins cleaning up.

There’s more clamor from the med bay and Jack’s voice is loud, rising above it, “I’d have remembered that.” John’s reply is drowned out by discordant clanging.

“What are they doing down there?” Gwen asks him, and Ianto shrugs.

“Stop touching stuff!” Jack yells again.

Gwen’s eyes are wide. “Should we go down there and help them maybe?”

“I’m sure Jack has it under control.” They look at one another for a moment, thinking the things that neither of them will say. Ianto winces at another loud clatter, the sound of sharp, metal instruments crashing to the floor. “I forgot to ask, before. How was the power station?”

“Oh.” Gwen sort of deflates, her face, almost comically, falling. “Weird. I kept expecting to… I dunno, _feel_ something.” She shakes her head, hair falling loosely about her shoulders. “But I didn’t.”

“Is that why you wanted to go?” he asks, softly.

“Yeah, I guess.” Shrugging, she turns her face away. “Work with people, spend practically every day together and… I feel like I was still just getting to know them.”

Ianto nods, eyes downcast. He knows that feeling. He’d spent years on his own and it seemed that the moment he began making friends, they all died horribly. Everyone he comes to love will die. Has died. Or left.

“I did not!” Jack practically shouts as he comes storming up the stairs.

John follows closely behind. “You said, ‘Be back in five minutes,’ then you just disappeared.” John turns to Gwen and then Ianto, gesturing to Jack with a half-empty bottle of scotch in his hand, the label’s peeled off leaving scraps of white paper on the glass. “If he ever says, ‘Don’t worry, I’m coming right back,’ it’s a lie. It means he’s going to bugger off with your best weapons and the last power bar.”

“I made sure you got out safely.”

Taking a large swig from the bottle, John then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you mean that little bubble-teleport trick you pulled, which landed me in the middle of the bloody Knyiigyian rebellion, then, oh yeah. Safe and sound.”

Ianto plucks the bottle from his hand, stony-faced. “This does not belong to you.” He stalks off to the nearest computer terminal, leaving them behind. He can feel Jack’s eyes on him, boring into his back in that concerned yet almost bewildered fashion that Ianto catches him in sometimes. He carefully places Owen’s bottle of Glenmorangie onto the desk beside him. Up above he hears a rustling and a loud shriek as Myfanwy flaps her wings, finishing off her dinner.

“You should get rid of that thing,” John yelps.

“You leave my girl alone.”

“You know, Jack, you always were the most flexible man I’d ever met.”

Ianto refrains from rolling his eyes or scowling. Instead, he finishes checking the recordings on the monitor and gathers up a stack of printouts. Calmly, oh so calm and composed, he walks back over and hands it to Jack. “The rift analysis. From when we were… out.”

Before Jack can take it, John grabs it out of Ianto’s hand and walks away. Jack gently places his hand on Ianto’s chest and says, “Let him go. We might get a few minutes peace.”

“Jack.” Gwen turns to them with her hands on her hips. “We’re not really going to… just let him _stay_ here, are we?”

“He’s a little bit stranded for the time being, Gwen. What do you suggest we do with him?”

“Well, we should lock him in a cell. Shouldn’t we? He’s a dangerous… alien. That’s what we do.”

“He’s not a dan-” Jack bites his lip, shaking his head in exasperation. “He’s not an alien.”

“Well,” Ianto says, slowly, “technically he is. He’s not from this planet and certainly not this country. That would be the definition of alien.”

With a funny little snort, Jack crosses his arms over his chest. “By that logic, I’d be an alien, too.” He looks back and forth between their grinning faces. “What?”

Gwen laughs, glancing at Ianto and back. “We just got you to admit to something without even trying.”

“What?” Jack stands up a little straighter. “I haven’t admitted to anything.”

Raising one finger and gesturing toward Jack, Ianto says, “You’ve just told us that you’re not from Earth, past or future. One thing we were never really certain of before.”

Jack looks back and forth between them, his mouth hanging open. Gwen’s still grinning, hugely, and laughing a bit; Ianto has a small, amused smile on his face. Jack rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. “The fact that you actually needed me to confirm that for you…” Reaching out, he hooks an arm around Gwen’s shoulders and draws her in, giving her a quick squeeze. He grabs Ianto by the hand and pulls him in, as well.

Ianto stumbles over his feet and falls against Jack’s side. He catches Gwen’s eye and she grins up at him with her head resting against Jack’s broad chest. Laying his head down on Jack’s shoulder, Ianto lets himself just _be_ for a moment. Jack’s arm, now wrapped around his shoulders, tightens and Ianto’s hand, clutching the fabric in the small of Jack’s back, meets Gwen’s fingertips.

There’s a loud crash from behind them, somewhere lower in the hub. Exhaling slowly through his nose, Ianto pulls out of the embrace, fingers sliding along Jack’s side and away. “I’d better go and clean up downstairs.”

Jack’s hand falls onto Ianto’s shoulder. “I’ll do it,” he says, with a small smile, and squeezes Ianto’s shoulder. “Let me do it, Ianto.”

“Then I should go open up the Tourist Office,” Ianto responds automatically, turning away. “It’s been closed for a long time,” he adds, his mind already running through all the things he could be doing. Anything to keep busy. He could go down and feed the Hoix. He’s not sure if it actually needs that much ‘food’ or if it simply can’t stop, but he’d rather it didn’t try eating a hole through the wall again. And maybe check on the weevils, too. They’ve been acting strangely the last few times he’s gone down to feed them.

That hand comes to rest on his shoulder again, tugging him back around, and, without even blinking, Jack manages to say, “The city is still in shambles.” But his grin is forced. “Who’s visiting?” he adds, with a tiny, artificial laugh. “It can wait a while.” Never shy about inappropriate touching in the workplace, Jack’s hand lingers, warming Ianto’s skin beneath his shirt. He’s been doing that more and more lately, giving into his need to touch. He’s not so alien, after all.

“Jack-”

John marches up, pushing his way between them. Facing Jack and ignoring the others, he shoves the printouts under Jack’s nose. “Is this normal?”

Ianto steps back out of the way, to keep himself from being knocked over. He spies the bottle of sauce on the floor where Gwen had left it. Glaring at John, he picks it up and turns it over in his hands, idly wondering if Myfanwy is still hungry. He looks up and catches Jack smirking at him.

Ianto rolls his eyes. Setting the squeezy bottle aside, he nods at Gwen and leaves Jack to deal with… with _him_. He makes his way over to the tech terminal. All the wires are cleared up and back underneath where they belong, but he needs to put the floor grating back in place and tighten the bolts. Standing up, he taps the keyboard, pausing at the image onscreen. “Gwen,” he calls over his shoulder, “you’ve got a visitor.”

“What?” Gwen asks, hurrying over to see the monitor.

Ianto watches the man walking around the water tower, as if he’s searching for something. He chuckles as the man lifts a hand to scratch his head in puzzlement.

“Oh, you’ve got a blonde. Good call.” John, suddenly standing right there behind him, startles Ianto and he jerks away.

“Andy.” Gwen leans back away from the monitor, pushing John out of her way. “What’s he doing here?” she seems to be asking herself, as she grabs her bag and rushes to the door.

“I dunno, but you’d better hurry,” Ianto calls after her, gesturing to the screen. “The situation just got doubly worse.”

Gwen looks back as she steps through the round entryway, barely waiting for the door to roll fully open. “Rhys?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

Ianto catches a glimpse of her face just as she turns toward the stairs, in too much of a hurry to wait for the lift. Feeling Jack come up at his side, Ianto reaches into his pocket and pulls out his stopwatch. “How long before it kicks off?” he asks, nodding at the two men now on the screen.

“Five seconds,” Jack replies, with a grin, and elbows John away from Ianto.

“Oi!”

“Oh, come on, Rhys has a bit more restraint than that. Give him seven seconds, at least.”

“Haven’t you got more important things to do?”

Ignoring John, Jack points at the screen, “Ah, there we go.” Gwen appears, stepping between the two and pushing each back away from the other.

Ianto clicks the button on his stopwatch. “Look at that. Nine seconds. We both underestimated him. She must have sprinted to get there that quickly.”

“This is all very exciting, in a mind-numbingly dull sort of way.” John pushes his way between Ianto and Jack again and taps the papers with one finger. “But you’ve got some serious energy stutters there. So… normal? Or not?”

“The rift energy is constantly fluctuating,” explains Ianto, slowly, gesturing at the graph lines on the top sheet. “As long as it remains within this area, then it’s safe. Normal, anyway.”

“Fluctuating, sure. But what about here?” John rips the pages away when Jack tries to take them, and flips through, dropping several sheets to the floor. “Like this. Flat-lined, as in nonexistent. And then,” he traces the line with his finger, “dip, just a small one, and back to flat again. Been around a few rifts in my time. They don’t just go away.”

Ianto’s eyes snap to Jack at the mention of ‘rifts’ - plural. It’s odd. He supposes there must be other rifts out in the universe, in other places and other times - how else would theirs dump things all over the universe? - but he’d always thought of it as _the_ rift. And _‘they don’t just go away.’_

“No, it didn’t go away, but…” He pokes the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips, a nervous habit he’s well aware of, and forces himself to keep his eyes on Jack. “It did… sort of… Stay quiet, I guess you could say, after…” he stutters, eyes flickering to the floor and settling on Jack again. “After we… after you left. For a bit, anyway.”

John scoffs, “Huh, he left you, too. Right in the middle of a crisis?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks at Ianto.

“Considering he’d just sacrificed himself to save the world, he was entitled to a holiday.” Ianto glares at him for a second, then turns back to Jack and continues, “Didn’t really start acting up again until just a few days before you got back. Tosh had a theory. That maybe it was… recovering from… energy… something or other…”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about, do you, Eye Candy?”

“ _Toshiko_ ,” Ianto grinds out through gritted teeth, “was working on it. It’s how she developed the prediction program, actually. She thought that maybe given so much recent activity that the rift energy was… sort of… back-building, was how she put it. She figured out that after each event there was, _usually_ , a period of inactivity, which she based on the size of the initial event. So, after such a… major-”

“So,” John interrupts, “what recent major rift activity has there been to cause this?”

“Just you,” Ianto bites back.

Smirking, John waggles his eyes brows, bouncing lightly on his toes. “He’s so feisty, Jack.” He leans up close to Jack’s ear. If he’s trying to whisper, he fails miserably, but the words are in a language that Ianto can’t understand.

Jack pushes him away, eyes still on Ianto, and asks, “Do we still have the readings from then?”

“Of course. Everything’s been archived.”

“Right!” John claps Ianto on the back, giving his shoulder a painful squeeze. “So, office boy, go do your job.” With the other hand, he grabs up the bottle off the desk and brings it to his lips.

Ianto pulls the bottle away from him, for the second time. “I’ve told you,” Ianto’s voice is hard, “this isn’t yours.” He catches Jack’s eye before turning on his heel and marching down to the autopsy bay.

It’s a complete disaster area. Instruments are strewn everywhere and all of the drawers and cupboards are open. A notepad filled with Owen’s illegible scrawl lays open at the foot of the stairs. Ianto steps carefully through the wreckage to place the glass bottle away in its cupboard, and leaves the rest of the mess for Jack. As he makes his way toward the corridor to the archives, he feels Jack’s eyes on him the whole time.

 

\- **Will you tell me what you saw and I’ll tell you what you missed when the ocean met the sky? You wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste the afterlife**?  
\- Modest Mouse, The Ocean Breathes Salty

 

Jack stands at the railing looking down into the autopsy bay. Over the sound of breaking glass, the crashing of metal instruments and the rustle of black, plastic bin bag, he asks, “Are you really going to just toss that out?”

“Fuck off, Jack.”

“I mean, that’s good stuff there.” He points to the bottle in Owen’s hand. “Expensive and everything.”

“Not going to do me any good now, is it?” Owen turns to face him, mouth set in a grim line. If he could cry, his eyes would be red and puffy from trying _not_ to cry. Breath or no, his shoulders still shake as if he were gasping. “I don’t want to go back into the dark.”

Jack’s feet are moving and he’s down the stairs and at Owen’s side without even thinking. He reaches out a hand, but pulls just short of touching Owen’s shoulder. “We don’t _really_ know that… that’s all there is. We don’t.”

“You’re just saying that. You’ve seen it. _I’ve_ seen it.”

“No.” Jack shakes his head. “We _don’t_ know for sure, Owen. I don’t know what might come next. It could be anything.”

Owen snorts and backs away to lean against the wall. “You think that there’s some great, wonderful afterlife and… what? You just haven’t gone far enough?”

“Maybe. It’s possible.” Taking a small step forward, Jack waits. He waits for Owen to push him away, to hit him, to scream and fight and revile. To look up.

When he does, his eyes are shining brightly under the harsh lights. “Do you actually believe that?”

Jack takes that last step closer. “I don’t know. Right now? I want to.” And he places his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “For you. But to think about that… I’ll _never_ get there, Owen. Ever.”

“Trade you.” A tiny laugh escapes and Owen leans into him.

“I wouldn’t do that to you…” Jack pauses, waits for Owen to look him in the eye. “A second time.”

“Tell me there’s something out there, Jack. Something that’s worth all this.”

“There’s so much out there, Owen. More than you can ever imagine.”

“And I’ll never get to see it.”

“You might.”

 

\- **To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else**.  
\- Emily Dickinson

 

Jack looks up at the grinding noise of the gears opening the heavy blast door and he hurries out of his office, hastily buttoning his greatcoat as he goes. Owen and Ianto are arguing, two take away bags between them. Stopping, with his hands on his hips, Jack demands, “Well, how did it go?”

Ianto looks up briefly. “Fine,” he mumbles, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. “Comms link died, sorry.”

It’s odd enough to see Ianto in the hub in a t-shirt and jeans but, starving or not (and breakfast was a long ten hours ago, for both of them), Ianto’s never been one to talk with his mouth full. Or eating without a napkin tucked into his collar, come to that, and Jack finds himself trying not to laugh. He shifts his weight. “Fine?”

Heading to his workstation, Owen lifts out two paper-wrapped bundles and lets the plastic bag flutter to the floor. “Except for the part where it sucked.”

Nodding, Ianto makes an, ‘Mm,’ sound of agreement around his mouth of food, pointing a plastic spork in Owen’s direction.

Jack looks back and forth between them. “But you got it all sorted?”

Swallowing, Ianto clears his throat before answering, “If by that you mean, ‘Did it explode and cover the SUV in an horrendous smelling orange slime that hardened into a thick, crusty shell making the doors nearly impossible to open and surely racking up a considerable amount in repairs?’ Then yes.” Ianto’s eyes narrow and he cocks his head to one side, seeming to stare through the thick material of Jack’s coat.

Jack fidgets, uncomfortably, folding his arms in front of him. “So, it’s dead?”

Nodding, Ianto simply says, “Yep.” His lips thin, face poised in that way he has when he’s debating with himself whether to say something or not. It took Jack months to work that one out, but he manages to spot it easily now. And the moment when Ianto decides to let it slide. “How did yours go?”

“OK. Good. Fine.” The words tumble rapidly out of Jack’s mouth, eager to move on. “We dealt with it and Gwen got home in time to have dinner with Rhys. Ours didn’t explode. I’ve already taken care of the clean up, too.” He grins at Ianto, expecting praise, and Ianto’s lips twitch ever so slightly at the corners. “You just missed Tosh, though.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Owen pouring a healthy measure of scotch into a glass.

Owen glances up, noticing Jack watching. “What? After that, I deserve a drink.” He waves the bottle in their direction. “Ianto?”

“Mm-hmm.” Ianto nods and unwraps his battered fish, grease making his fingers glisten in the low light. He looks up at Jack, eyeing his buttoned coat, and Jack straightens his shoulders. Backing away, he _hopes_ the blood isn’t visible and he’s sure now that Ianto won’t mention it, even if he is giving him that look that says, _‘I wish you’d stop dying in front of us. It hurts to watch.’_

Jack doesn’t need to be reminded; he’s reminded of it every time. In the midst of fighting and dying there’s a moment when it all, all of it, everything around him, anything he’s ever seen or done, anyone he’s ever known, is just gone. And he forgets, just in that moment. But upon awakening, when it all comes flooding back, cascading over him, all the life he’s known, all the lives he’s touched, he doesn’t want to let that go.

This team, these friends of his, he doesn’t want to let them go. “I’m going to just… wash up a bit,” he says, with a flick of his eyebrows, and spins on his heel. He turns back, leaning toward Ianto with cautious optimism, and asks, “You got any extra in there?”

 

\- **I came upon a clear. The sky, its stars like fortune filled me. Until now I was a soldier, ‘til now I dealt in fear. These years of cloak and dagger have left us disappeared**.  
\- Matthew Good, While We Were Hunting Rabbits

 

And then, it’s a week later and John is still here. And he’s actually helpful.

“That’s a Di‘rnarii status image replicator,” he’s saying, possibly to himself, as he tosses the odd contraption aside. “Jack should really know more of this stuff. He only spent _two years_ in the Hathoram Mar galaxy.”

Ianto stands stock-still in the middle of the hub, clutching files in one hand and staring at the utter chaos around him. “What have you done?” His carefully, _painstakingly_ , and sometimes life-risking, archived artifacts lay scattered about the floor, boxes piled high near Gwen’s desk and…

“Is that my fucking _coffee maker_?!” Not the one down here in the hub, _thank God_ , but the little cafetière he keeps upstairs… broken beyond repair.

“Needed some parts. Jack said he’d cut my balls off if I went anywhere near there.” He points to the little kitchen over on the side. “So I had to use this.”

“What for? No, forget it, I don’t care. Just shut up.” Ianto bends down to pick up the sad remains of his lovely, it really had been so very lovely, coffee maker. He ignores John as he rummages through the junk heaped next to him. Ianto’s been doing his best to ignore John for most of the last few days, but he is beginning to try Ianto’s patience. The odd requests for files and tech, his constant presence, the fact that Jack is _letting_ him roam about the hub. So far, he hasn’t been allowed out unsupervised, but they aren’t exactly keeping him locked up, either. Jack fashioned one of the smaller offices off the main corridor to the lower levels into a makeshift room for John. It has a single light, a small camp bed pulled out of storage that hasn’t been used since well before Ianto’s time and, best of all, a lock on the outside of the door.

Although, it’s not as if John ever actually _stays_ in his room. Ianto thinks that not sleeping much must be a 51st century thing, but Jack says that John’s just had ‘a lot of work done’ - whatever that means - and that he will need sleep. _Eventually_. Jack also refuses to leave John alone in the hub, but he’s also reluctant to leave one of the others alone _with_ him.

Gwen had said it was fine by her, but Ianto had been quick to point out that he can bloody well take care of himself and that Jack is needed in the field more often. He would not, however, admit that he’s equally unwilling to leave Jack alone with John, too. Which basically means that Ianto is practically living at the hub - no change there - and that it’s _not_ because he’s spending extra fun-time with Jack.

John is always around, always right there, asking for things, making his _comments_ , dropping little hints of his past with Jack, and fiddling with technology that Ianto would prefer he not be allowed near. And Jack, preoccupied as he is with his own projects, just _lets_ him. As if Ianto doesn’t know what he keeps in his desk drawer, tinkering with it whenever he has a moment and hurriedly hiding it away whenever one of them walks into the office. John spends odd moments going over the rift analysis stats, trying to work out some sort of pattern. Or so he says. Mostly, he’s just making a mess.

Cradling the defiled corpse that was once a fine coffee maker, Ianto steps around the debris littering the floor. “I realize you’re trying to help and we appre-” He stops, clenches his jaw. _No! No, I do not!_ He takes a deep breath. “If you could perhaps ask the next time you need something, I’m sure I could find it for you.” He slaps the files down on the desk beside John’s head. “Like so. Why do you want this anyway?”

“Building a bomb.”

“ _What_?”

“Just a joke, Eye Candy.”

Ianto readjusts his tie. “Stop calling me that. I swear to God-” John snickers at him, but Ianto carries on regardless, “I’m going to find ways to torture you that you absolutely will not enjoy.”

The heavy door rolls open, letting in a cold rush of air and a laughing Gwen and Jack.

John licks his lips and grins up at Ianto. “You’re so pretty when you’re coming unhinged.”

Biting his tongue, almost literally, Ianto steps past him toward Jack. “How did it go?”

The laughter tapers off as Jack looks around. “Fiiiine…” he draws the word out, walking slowly across the floor and stepping over bits of tech here and there. “What…” He leans over John’s shoulder, reaches past him and tugs the… thing out of his hands. “This is beautiful.”

John grins up at him. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jack nods, examining it with a smile on his face. Behind him, Gwen stands up on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. “Too bad you’ll never get this to work. Even if you managed to calculate the correct proportions _and_ build the chamber properly, you’ll never find a power source for it. And if you did, I’d have to kill you.”

“Bollocks!” John rips it out of Jack’s hands and tosses it across the room, smashing it against the wall and causing Gwen to jump. “I’ve got another idea, anyway.” He begins rooting around in a pile nearby, creating another mess and an almighty clatter. “Where’s that…” he glances up at Ianto with an evil grin, and tries to pull the broken coffee maker out of his hands.

Ianto yanks it back. “No.”

John tugs at it some more. “Oh, come on, give it.”

“No! No, no, no. Jack, make him stop.”

“ _Ja-ack, make him stop_.”

“OK, kids, play nice.” Fighting his way between them, Jack forces them apart. “We’ve got a dead weevil in the back of the SUV.” He points a finger at John, says, “Guess who gets to go take care of that,” and chucks the keys at him.

John glares at him a moment, but then his eyes glimmer and he smiles broadly. Grabbing what looks like a little black and silver box with wires sticking out of it off the floor and waving it in Jack’s face, he says, “That means I get to test this out,” before hurrying down the corridor to the garage entrance.

Ianto clears his throat. “You just gave him the keys to the SUV.”

Jack rolls his head, stretching out his neck and shoulders. “Gwen, do you think you could..?”

“Got it covered.” She pulls her gun out with a gleeful smile and saunters after John.

With a sigh, he turns to Ianto and states, “If he was going to steal it - _again_ \- he wouldn’t need the keys.”

“Sure. He may have just taken his homemade bomb up there and plans to blow it up instead.”

Jack just shakes his head at him. “Besides, what’s he going to do with a weevil in the backseat?”

“You said it was dead.”

Jack shrugs. “Dead. Unconscious.”

Ianto raises one eyebrow at him, then gestures around them at the disorder. “I’m not cleaning this up.” They have a bit of a staring contest until finally Ianto just sighs, setting the broken coffee maker onto a nearby desktop. “Fine. But I get to shoot him later.”

“OK. So long as I don’t have to clean up.” Jack claps Ianto on the back and starts toward his office, but Ianto grabs his hand before he can slip away.

“Jack…”

“He’s _not_ going to blow us up. Look, seriously, I know him. He may walk around like he doesn’t give a damn what happens to him, but he’s been on a life-long quest for immortality and he’s not about to drop it now.”

“That doesn’t mean he gives a crap what happens to any of us.”

“No, it doesn’t. But right now he’s stuck here and we’re his only ticket out. He just hasn’t found a way, yet. When he does, _then_ he’ll be a danger again.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” Ianto exhales loudly. He doesn’t release Jack’s hand. “You talk with him at night.” It comes out more accusatory than Ianto had intended.

“Yeah.” Jack nods, shrugging his shoulders and moving away. “A little. He fills in the blanks of things I’ve long forgotten. ‘Course, he could be making some of this stuff up.”

“He never asks…” Ianto waves a hand in Jack’s general direction.

“Oh,” Jack chuckles. “Of course he does. Constantly.”

“And you tell him..?”

“That you can’t duplicate a freak accident.”

Ianto smiles, bitterly. “Or that you wouldn’t really want to.”

“I don’t think that would get through to him. He only sees the free pass to do as he pleases without consequence and nothing more.” Jack turns his face away, his eyes glazed and gazing off into the distance. In Ianto’s short life he’s seen pain and death and destruction, and he can’t imagine eternity of the same. Even the prospect of Hell, with its eternal fire, doesn’t seem as bad. He would pity Jack, if not for the simple fact that he knows Jack will find joy and beauty and happiness again and again between the sorrows and the heartbreaks.

A high-pitched whine and a short, snuffling sound break the silence. They both turn as a weevil shuffles sedately into the hub and a voice from behind it calls, “So, where does this go?” John steps into view; he’s aiming the black and silver box, an eerie orange glow seeping through the cracks of the casing, at the weevil’s head. Gwen is behind him, keeping her distance, with her gun out but no longer raised and a can of weevil spray in her hand.

“Is that a…” Jack points to the box, an odd expression of both wariness and admiration on his face.

“They’re telepaths, yeah? And sensitive to sound. Bit of Yirgin technology you had in a box marked ‘unknown’ and there you go. Remote control. Needed to patch it together with some other stuff, but really it was simple enough. Look, I’m not holding this all day.” He looks directly at Ianto, one hand on his hip, as if expecting the ‘office boy’ to take it from there.

Rolling his eyes, Ianto leads the way to the cells, keeping a fair distance between himself and the weevil. And John. He’s still annoying, and Ianto wouldn’t trust him if John were blind-folded and strapped to a chair - bastard would probably like that too much, anyway - but he’s helpful.

\---

The haphazard clanging and smashing noises coming from the autopsy bay could never be mistaken for Owen. When he worked he was methodical, precise. He almost always left a mess when he was finished, but he was always focused while working. Jack closes his eyes, swallowing thickly, and does his best to block it all out. He’d forgotten how… _manic_ ‘John’ could be. And not in a fun running in bright red trainers to save the world kind of way.

Gracing Ianto with a tiny smile of thanks, Jack brushes his fingers as Ianto hands him a steaming mug of coffee. Inhaling deeply, the rich aroma of coffee calms Jack’s nerves. Nerves. When did he develop nerves? When did he get so old? He’s been weary before, for years even. The long, long years of waiting had taken a toll on him, but there was always something to look forward to. Every new year of the 20th century a marker, just _that much_ closer to the Doctor. Now come and gone.

The melancholy settles around his shoulders like a familiar, old quilt. He looks up and Ianto is watching him.

The proximity alarm sounds and Jack turns, his guard up, as the door grinds and rolls open. Everyone who has access to the hub is already here; _who could that possibly be?_ Jack thrusts his mug back at Ianto and draws his gun. Gwen does the same, while Ianto hurries to check the monitors. John saunters up from the autopsy bay and just stands there, doing absolutely nothing.

Rhys steps through the gates, his arms loaded with paper bags, sees Gwen pointing a gun at him and he immediately turns to glare at Jack. “Have you made her forget me again?”

Quickly, Gwen holsters her gun and hurries to him, shooting a look at Jack. He’s annoyed, and he’d voice it, too, but for the twitch of displeasure he sees on Gwen’s face. She’s not happy about this, either, and better Rhys get it from her than him.

“Rhys,” Gwen grits out sweetly through her forced smile, “what are you doing here?” She lowers her voice, but not enough so that Jack can’t hear her across the hub. “I only showed you the entrance in case of emergencies.” Possibly realizing the others heard her, she whirls around, hair flying round her face, and says to Jack, “It was only so that Rhys could get in if… if there was ever a problem and we needed help down here. Or so he’d have a safe place to go if-”

Jack waves her off. “Yeah. It’s fine, Gwen. We’ll just invite the rest of your families down here, too. Hey, they could relive your wedding reception.” Plastering on a smile, he calls out across the hub, “Hello, Rhys. What’s in the bags?”

“I brought lunch.” Rhys holds the bags up, the annoyed look on his face replaced with a hesitant smile. “Gwen’s told me how much you’ve all been doing lately and, well, I had the day off. Thought maybe…”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” Gwen’s smile becomes a little less forced and her voice a little more forceful. “Isn’t it, Jack?”

Briefly catching Ianto’s eye, Jack nods to her, smiles, and says, “Yeah, thanks, Rhys. We appreciate it. Ianto will show you to the conference room.” He looks across to Ianto who nods in return and starts for the door.

John makes his way over, hips swaying provocatively. “And I’ll just make myself comfortable.”

“Who’s this?”

“No one.” Gwen takes Rhys by the elbow and starts leading him away, following Ianto. She glares at John, while calling out, “Jack, can we tie him back up and gag him this time?”

“If you really want to!” Jack calls back.

John croons, “Mm, just like last time. Does he know how you like to be in charge?” Following closely at their heels, he taunts into her ear, “We both know you and I look good shackled together. And I’ll be as rough as you like, the things I could do will make you quiver-”

“Oi!” Rhys whirls around, but Gwen catches him by the arm and begins dragging him. “That’s my wife!”

John grins at him, shark-like, feral. “You’re invited, too.”

Turning on his heel, Jack marches to his office, only half listening to the conversation behind him. He laughs, mirthlessly, to himself, holds his breath and bitter tears threatening to escape. He’s floundering. They all are. Dangling by a thread and the slightest gust could blow them all away. The doctor is gone and with him the unfailing hope that he could fix everything. Now, Jack has no one to count on but himself. And what’s left of his team. Who did he ever think he was, that he could protect anyone?

 

\- **Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live**.   
\- Haruki Murakami

 

The breeze coming off the bay ruffles Jack’s hair and sends a chill down the back of his neck. “Do I come off like that?” he asks, out of the blue, pulling his coat closed around him. Ianto looks at him, confused. “Heartless,” he explains and waves his hand in the air. “It was something Gwen said the other day.”

“Ah.” Ianto gives a tiny nod; the wind around them masks any intonation there might have been in his voice. He’s been even more unreadable in these days since Jack’s return, hiding himself in different ways now. Or maybe he isn’t hiding anymore and Jack really never knew him at all. Perhaps all this confidence and conviction was there before and Jack just couldn’t see it. He’s noticed some sort of resolve behind Ianto’s eyes, when Ianto watches him and thinks he isn’t looking, but has yet to puzzle it out.

A long, almost uncomfortable silence passes before Jack asks again, “So, do I?”

Ianto grins over at him, mask sliding into place, or maybe away. “You let her keep Rhys. That’s like giving someone a puppy; how could anyone think that’s heartless?”

Jack raises a questioning eyebrow. “I thought you were _against_ ret-conning him?”

Ianto simply shrugs, but looks away, the wind blowing his hair flat against his forehead. “I think it’s what’s right for her.” He then looks Jack in the eye to say, “But you did just let her steamroll right over you and she’s going to continue to do so. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“Prepared!” Jack barks a laugh, head tilted back, face to the sun. “You were right. I had always planned on leaving. It’s just when it happened it was too quick. Well, no,” he backtracks, “not quick, waiting over a century and all, but then I had all this to take care of and I really had no clue what I was doing.” He gives Ianto a lop-sided grin. “Was that ever blatantly obvious to you?”

Ianto’s lips curve up at the corners, but he’s looking away from Jack again and out over the water. “Sometimes I had an inkling that you were just making it up as you went along.”

“Suzie used to joke about that. At least, I think she was joking.” Jack sighs, nodding regretfully. “I didn’t think I’d have to take care of anyone but myself and then Torchwood fell into… no, got _thrown_ in my lap and suddenly I’m the one that has to worry about everything and make sure everyone is ready and I was trying, Ianto, I really was. And Suzie was supposed to… but then… and I… Well, I was waiting until I could be sure that there was someone who could handle it, someone to hand the reins to, and I just didn’t…”

“You didn’t want to let it go. Didn’t think we were ready.”

Jack snorts noisily out his nose. “Well, I guess I was wrong there. You guys did pretty well without me.” He leans against the railing and stares out at the choppy water. “And now Gwen will go off and get married and Tosh will probably want to be leaving soon and Owen…” He laughs, a small almost startled sound. “Well, Owen seems to be doing OK, actually. Hey, there’s something.”

Ianto moves up next to him, blocking the wind. He can feel Ianto’s body heat seeping through all their layers of clothes and Ianto’s warm breath on the side of his face. “You don’t need to worry about Gwen. She’s put a lot into Torchwood in these last few months; she won’t be giving it up any time soon. And just because Tosh’s contract is nearly up, doesn’t signify anything. I mean, really, it’s not as though you’ve been actively enforcing it the last few years anyway.”

“Another shining example of my managerial skills.”

Ianto seems to ignore this. “And Owen’s method of coping is mostly to just ignore things.” Ianto settles his hand on the railing next to Jack’s, but doesn’t quite bring them into contact. “We got by, Jack. We scraped together and held on by our fingertips, but we still needed you. We still need you here.”

Turning his head to the side, Jack finds their faces are almost touching, and he whispers, “I just want it all like it was before.” Ianto gives him a funny look that he can’t quite interpret. Feeling his day slide further into despair, he changes the subject, rotating his body so that he is leaning back on his elbows against the railing and facing Ianto. “We should do this again sometime. I still owe you that date.”

 

\- **But there is suffering in life, and there are defeats. No one can avoid them. But it's better to lose some of the battles in the struggles for your dreams than to be defeated without ever knowing what you're fighting for**.  
\- Paulo Coelho

 

Ianto closes the door to Jack’s office behind him after he enters. The tricky part must have been getting it open with his hands full. Shoving his desk drawer closed, Jack wonders how he managed that.

Carrying two plates, each with a slice of cake, Ianto frowns at Jack’s gun laying abandoned on the desk, sets one of the plates down and says, “Rhys bakes. Who knew?” He doesn’t ask if Jack is hungry and doesn’t tell him that he should eat something, either. Instead, he comes around the desk, parks himself on top of it, right in front of Jack, and swings his legs up, one at a time, settling his feet on either arm of Jack’s chair, essentially boxing him in.

Jack eyes him up and down, pen poised in the air. “You’re sitting on my paperwork.”

“Very astute observation.”

Tilting his head toward the door, Jack wonders who would throw the first punch at John: Gwen or Rhys? “Anyone get killed out there?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“And… you’re bored?”

“I’m distracting you.” Ianto takes a forkful of cake, letting his tongue snake out to catch all the crumbs. A dab of vanilla icing lingers at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re very good at that.” Jack grins up at him, bringing his hand to rest on Ianto’s thigh.

“I’m very good at a lot of things.” Ianto’s tongue darts out to lick at the icing, missing a little.

“Oh, I know.” Jack surges forward to catch Ianto’s mouth with his own, to lick the last traces of icing away himself. They over balance and Ianto jerks away.

“Look what you made me do.” But he’s smiling and his voice is light. He holds his right hand up, the one he’d leaned back on to keep himself from falling over. The hand that he’d put down right into the slice of cake he’d brought for Jack.

With his clean hand, he pushes gently at Jack’s shoulder to give himself room and Jack flops back into his chair. He watches Ianto search around the piles of papers for something to wipe his hand off, and is about to offer when Ianto decides to lick it clean himself, raising his eyebrows at Jack suggestively. Shaking his head, Jack tries to remember if Ianto was always like this with him or if it’s only been the past few months.

“You’ve rejected the ATMOS upgrade?” Ianto pulls up a sheet of paper off the desk. “And recommended that all police, military and security services to do the same?”

“I’ve told you, there’s something… off about it. I just can’t remember what it is.” Jack grins as Ianto rolls his eyes at him. “It’ll come to me. But UNIT is being stubborn, as usual. Maybe I can get Martha to kick them in gear.”

“So, what pearls of wisdom would you have for her?”

“I dunno about wisdom, but if you want something pearly-”

“Please. That is beneath you, Jack.” He clamps his hand over Jack’s smirk. “And that. I’m just going to stop talking.” Jack pushes his tongue out through his lips to lick Ianto’s palm. It is sticky sweet from the cake icing and Ianto pulls it away, trying to glower but he’s laughing behind it.

“C’mere.” Jack pushes his chair closer to the desk and wraps his arms around Ianto’s waist, resting his head against Ianto’s stomach. “Don’t stop talking to me.”

“I wouldn’t.” Ianto combs his fingers - of his clean hand, Jack hopes - through Jack’s hair, brushing his fringe aside and away from his eyes. Moving his head, the fabric of Ianto’s waistcoat warm next to his skin, Jack looks up and beckons him closer.

The door clatters open as John stumbles backward inside, calling out into the hub, “So, just to be clear, that was a _‘no’_ on the threesome?” He ducks as an empty plastic container sails through the air over his head and lands in the middle of the office floor. Gwen growls something - well, it sounds like Gwen, and wouldn’t Jack love to hear her make that sound again under other circumstances - as John hurriedly closes the door and leans back against it.

Ianto is half-turned, aiming Jack’s gun at John’s head. “Out. Get out now, or I’ll shoot you.”

John stands a little straighter, crossing his arms over his chest, leering. Ianto cocks the gun.

Grinning, Jack says, “I think he means it.” John glances between Jack, Ianto, and the Webley. With a “Pfft!” he opens the door and stomps back out. But not before checking that the coast is clear.

Licking his lips, Jack slides his hand back up Ianto’s inner thigh, then over his hip and onto his chest. “Have I told you recently how much I love it when you take charge like that?”

“Told? No.” Ianto engages the safety on the revolver and slips it back into its holster where it belongs. He threads his fingers through Jack’s hair, tugging him forward. “But I like it better when you show me.” Ianto leans down until their lips meet and it is slow and it is warm and Jack’s blood rushes and his heart pounds and he breathes in Ianto’s strong, comforting scent through his nose and tastes coffee and cake on his tongue and-

An ear-piercing shriek shatters the moment. Both Jack and Ianto scramble for the door and out into the hub. The sound gets louder and Ianto covers his ears.

Gwen is at the computer with her hands clamped to the sides of her head. “Is that the rift alert?” she shouts over the sound, jerking her head at the monitor. Rhys stands just behind her, covering his own ears, and John just beyond, grimacing.

Jack marches over to peer at the screen. “That’s not the rift alert, it’s the prediction program.” He turns sharply, glaring at John and demands, “What did you do to it?”

“Just tweaked it a bit,” John replies, his voice mostly drowned out by the sound. “Should give you more advance warning now.”

“Jack, look at this.” Ianto has edged up next to him and is pointing to the readings on the screen. “It’ll be huge. Whatever comes through… it could be…” Ianto hunches up his right shoulder to protect his ear and begins typing frantically. “I think I can pinpoint it to a single location,” he yells and, even though Jack is right next to him, he can barely hear him.

“Can you shut the alarm-”

The sound stops.

“-off?!” Jack squares his shoulders. “Good, thanks.”

Ianto offers him a thin, tight smile. But his eyes are drawn back to the monitor. “Jack. If this is accurate…” he begins, cutting his eyes quickly over to John, and Jack nods.

It wouldn’t be completely impossible for John to have somehow set this up, except he truly looks as confused as the rest of them. Not quite as worried, but that’s John. Decisively, Jack commands, “Tell me, how big are we talking.”

Ianto indicates the screen with a sweep of his hand. “It’s looking like it could encompass this whole area, centered above a car park just off the city centre. We’ll need more than just you and Gwen out there to cover this and someone has to coordinate from the hub…” Ianto trails off, his words hanging in the air.

Slowly, Jack stands up straighter, looking from Ianto to John to Gwen to Rhys, and back to Ianto. Shaking his head, Jack says, “We can’t leave him alone in the hub.”

“We can’t leave _him_ alone in the hub,” Ianto counters, pointing at John.

“No, no, no.” Gwen shakes her head, stepping in front of Rhys, as if to shield him with her body. “There’s no way. Rhys is not getting involved. No.”

Stepping next to Jack, Ianto says softly, “Someone needs to coordinate us.”

John says, “Uh, I could do that-” and Rhys asks, “Wait, what’s going on-” but they are both ignored.

“No way, just no,” Gwen is still insisting, waving her hands about, and Jack feels himself wavering, glancing between her, and her vehement refusal, and Ianto’s forced calm.

“Rhys did help me get the Hoix out of the hospital and back to the hub.”

Both Jack and Gwen turn to Ianto in surprise. “He did?”

Ianto rolls his eyes. “Yes, he did. And a fine job, too.” He nods at the other man standing on the outside of the group and Rhys beams.

Softly to Ianto, Jack asks, “Where was I? I should have done that.”

“You were… busy.” Ianto surreptitiously squeezes his hand. “Gwen,” he says, louder, “it’s our only option. And we haven’t got much time. Rhys, you do this sort of thing all the time for work, yes?” Ianto beckons him to the computer and pulls up the route maps on the monitor. “This shows the location, this here is the SUV, and these dots represent us. Jack is blue, Gwen is green, I’m red, and…” Ianto glances over his shoulder at Jack. “And I suppose John will be yellow?”

“He’ll be no more than ten feet from me,” Jack informs them and runs over to his office. He finds what he’s looking for, quickly, and jogs back out, holding up the alien ankle cuff. He waggles it in John’s direction. “Isn’t that right?” John sneers in Jack’s direction, but he takes the cuff and snaps it around his ankle. Jack grins. “Good man.”

Ianto hurries to gather equipment. He fits Toshiko’s comm device into the shell of Rhys’s ear for him and offers the other, Owen’s, to John. John scoffs at it, and Ianto glowers at him. “Toshiko designed and constructed these using plans from the archives labeled 33rd century. They’re top of the line here and now.” He shoves the device, minuscule and nearly invisible, into John’s hand and turns back to Rhys.

At a glare from Jack, John quickly fits it into his ear, petulantly asking, “I get a gun, don’t I? You’re not sending me out unarmed. That would be just irresponsible of you.”

“We’re not letting you loose with one of our firearms.” Jack leans past Gwen, still looking worried and hovering nearby, and Ianto, explaining the navigational system to Rhys, to say, “And don’t touch anything else.” Rhys scowls at him.

“Well, where are _my_ weapons? I want them back. I worked very hard to acquire some of those.”

“Jack removed your weapons,” Ianto states, calmly. He pulls a face. “Yes, _all_ of them.” At Rhys’s questioning look, Ianto tells him, “You don’t want to know.”

“Can’t keep his hands off me, is what you’re saying.” John wiggles his backside, smiling smugly.

Jack places a gentle hand on Gwen’s shoulder, to reassure her or himself, he isn’t sure. “Ianto, just give him a weapon or he’ll never shut up. Nothing high-powered. He can have a big stick, for all I care.”

Ianto hands John the smaller of two tasers. John examines the clunky design, missing the air cartridge, with an expression of extreme distaste. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Slipping the other into his inside coat pocket, Ianto smiles, placidly. “If you have to ask, I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.”

“Oi,” Rhys calls their attention back, “this is a pretty public area. I can direct you there fine, but what’re you going to do about people?”

Gwen looks queasy at the mere idea of leaving Rhys alone in the hub and, as her gaze strays over toward the autopsy bay, Ianto gently touches her arm.

“Gwen?”

Her eyes snap back to Jack. “I’ve got an idea.” She pulls out her mobile and dials quickly. “Andy? We’ve got a situation. We _need_ you,” she says into the phone, hurrying off to her work station to gather her things. A moment later she calls out, “It’s all set, Jack. I’ve got the police cordoning off the area.”

Jack straps his holster in place and claps his hands together. “Alright, people, let’s move.”

As Ianto comes up behind him and settles Jack’s coat on his shoulders, something fundamental, something that had been missing, something Jack hadn’t even noticed until now, slots back into place. And they are ready to go again.

\---

According to Ianto’s rift-activity monitor, the ‘event’ hasn’t happened yet. However, one should only trust technology so far. Gwen is at his side as he holds it up and shakes his head to indicate ‘nothing.’ It’s late afternoon and the last light of the day is slowly bleeding to dark, taking with it the lingering vestiges of warmth. There’s a tall, chain-link fence at one side of the multi-storey car park surrounding a pit of rubble and construction work. This is Cardiff, rebuilding. Hopefully that, plus the police cordon, will be enough to keep any passers-by from wandering in.

“ _If I’m reading this thing right, it’ll be straight ahead of you and up one level_ ,” Rhys directs them from the hub.

Jack comes in surround sound, at Ianto’s left shoulder _and_ over his comm-link, “One level? Not on the roof?”

Ianto turns slightly, eyes trained ahead, but speaking to Jack. “We’ll have to go through the construction site to get in there. It’s all blocked off.”

“No problem,” John announces, and hurtles himself at the fence, shimmying his wiry frame up and over. The bandage on his arm gets caught on the top, sharp metal tearing it away and slicing the flesh. For all his agility, he lands gracelessly on the flat of his back.

“Idiot,” Jack mutters, then, aloud, says, “What did I say about ten feet?” He holds up the little black box that controls the cuff. “Do you _want_ me to barbecue your head?”

Nimbly somersaulting to his feet, John dusts his jeans off and plants his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t have that much power.”

Jack waves the box in his hand and, with a lopsided grin, says, “Maybe I tweaked it a bit.”

Ianto rolls his eyes at the banter that’s beginning to sound a bit too much like foreplay and clears his throat to get their attention. He points to a gate, unlatched, just a few meters away. He lets Gwen go through before him, but slips in front of Jack with a flick of an eyebrow in his direction. Jack chuckles softly in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

The place is eerily quiet with the distant sound of voices echoing off the buildings around them. Jack takes the lead, keeping John to his right, but slightly in front. He motions for Ianto and Gwen to go round the other side and take the long way, while he and John take the stairwell. Ianto’s shoes _tap, tap, tap_ on the cement and Gwen’s trainers make hushed, scuffing sounds. They pass by darkened, empty vehicles consumed by the gloom, half the overhead lights flickering or out entirely. The shadows jump and sputter, creating movement out of the corners of Ianto’s eyes.

Gwen raises her chin at him in silent question and Ianto looks down at his monitor, frowning. It should be-

Leaves rustle, trickling down the slope of the car park, flying by on an arctic wind. The sound fills the silence, howling in the void. Catching Gwen’s eye, Ianto nods and off they go, racing up the slope to the turn and onto the next level.

“Well that’s… different.” Ianto stops dead and Gwen pulls up beside him.

It’s snowing. It’s snowing in the middle of a car park. On the middle level. There’s literally snow falling out of the concrete ceiling above them, just in that one spot about fifteen meters in diameter, blanketing the grey floor and nearby cars.

It’s snowing. In early October. It hardly even snows in Cardiff in the dead of winter.

“That’s beautiful.” Gwen exhales, her breath misting in front of her face. The diffused glow of pinkish light coming from the… _the great bloody rip in space and time!_ Ianto runs his hand over his hair and nearly staggers back. It lights Gwen’s features, softer, rounder, her mouth open in awe.

“ _You dragged me out here for this_?” Ianto tries to ignore John’s voice grating in his ear.

He looks across to the other side of the car park where Jack has appeared, John next to him. “Scanning now, Jack,” Ianto says, walking slowly with Toshiko’s handheld out in front of him. “It’s spatial, temporal, all kinds of strange readings, but it seems benign for the most par-”

His last word gets swallowed up in a great gust of wind, a loud boom and a flash of bright, white-hot light that sends him flying backwards. He manages to keep his head from slamming into a blue Vauxhall Insignia. Next to him, Gwen rolls onto her side. Offering her a weak half-smile, he says, “Nope. Same old, same old. You alright?” She nods and Ianto taps his earpiece, “Jack?”

“ _I’m OK, Ianto_.”

“ _Gwen! Gwen, are you alright?_ ”

“I’m fine. Fine, Rhys.” She sounds the slightest bit annoyed and trying to hide it.

“ _Now is not the time, people._ ” Jack, of course, doesn’t bother covering it up.

“ _I bloody hate this job and I don’t even work here!_ ”

“ _I’m fine, too, by the way_.” Nobody pays attention to John.

As Ianto struggles to his feet, shoes slipping in the puddles melting out of the snow-covered ground, there’s another great blast of wind and a smaller flash.

It is, Ianto can honestly say, the first time he’s ever seen something actually _fall_ through the rift. Usually things just show up. Or disappear.

The snow stops falling and Ianto realizes that the hole has closed up, leaving behind pure white snow and a large, fur-covered lump in the middle of the car park. It moves, rolling slightly to the side, and a muffled groan - almost a growl, something terribly off about it, a grinding, almost mechanical noise - fills the silence. The thing lurches to its feet and it’s over nine feet tall. Ianto stumbles back, involuntarily. Gwen is next to him with her gun raised high, staring wide-eyed at the creature.

In Ianto’s ear, Jack says, “ _Stay back. Do not approach_ ,” and out loud says, “Stay where you are! We can help you if you cooperate.”

The thing jerks and stumbles in Jack’s direction, its fur rippling in a _not-quite-natural_ way. Jack raises his gun, calling out again, but Ianto can’t make out the words. The creature turns from Jack and starts toward Ianto. Gwen moves up beside him, trying to block him with her body. Her hands are steady, gun never wavering, when she calls out, “Jack!” But the thing keeps coming, its steps unmeasured, staggering and swaying, lumbering forward. Before anyone has time to react, it lunges at Gwen and Ianto moves quick, taser out and ready, connecting with one of its large limbs.

It only takes one jolt to drop the enormous thing to the ground. Its fur moves like a solid mass up and over and comes away, falling to the ground revealing…

It looks _almost_ human. Small, round eyes looking up out of pale pink skin. The fur, a coat Ianto now realizes, pools around the… person’s body as it - _he? she?_ \- shivers in the snow. It has no mouth, but there’s an odd metal contraption protruding from the side of its head. Emitting a voice, “Help. Help me.”

Gwen gasps, dropping her arms to her sides. “It sounds just like Jack.”

_Yeah, if Jack had his personality removed,_ Ianto thinks and winces, because that voice in his head had sounded just like Owen.

“Help - ppleurghghs - please, help.” But that voice, no, it’s high and… mechanical. It sounds too much like… And this thing is lying here - in agony, if the distorted face is anything to go by - and he’d just almost killed it and all it wants is help.

“Wait! Wait, don’t shoot it!” John is running out, stepping in front of the creature - it still doesn’t look human enough to call it anything else - with his arms out. He’s looking at Jack, saying, “Don’t. It’s harmless. Come on, Jack, you should know this one.”

But Jack looks just as confused as Ianto feels. He’d thought it, too. He’d reacted the same way. He’d have done the same thing.

 

\- **The quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest. It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes** …  
-William Shakespeare

 

It’s only nine days into his suspension. That first night Jack had escorted him home, but hadn’t come inside or stayed any longer than necessary and left with the explicit statement that he’d be back the next day. Ianto had stumbled into his flat, stripped all of his clothes off, showered for an unimaginable amount of time, then passed out on his bed. He’d slept for over thirty hours straight and missed Jack’s first visit. He’d barely woken for Jack’s second and mostly ignored him every day after.

At some point, maybe coming back from the toilet or on his way in search of food, he drifts from the bed to the floor and just stays there. And Jack comes and goes, bringing with him food or coffee, making no comments about the boxes stacked up against the walls, or the lack of kitchen amenities, or the general state of the tiny, sparse room.

Ianto remains lying on the hard, cold floor covered with the blue and green quilt, the one he’d bought when he’d first moved to London. Lisa had hated it and called it the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. But she’d let him keep it over the armchair in their lounge next to the bookcase and he’d find her curled up in it late at night. He dozes lightly for hours or days on end, jerking awake every now and then, because he should be doing something, he needs to check on Lisa, she’s…

… _waiting, waiting for him to fix her. She asks, and each day her voice sounds less and less like her, but today, she smiles at him and the pain is less and he’ll make it work, he’ll find a way because she’s the only person in the entire world and she’s_ …

…gone now. She’s gone and the sound of heavy, metal feet pound through his head and they’ll never go away even though it’s over now. It’s _over_.

Waking up when it’s dark out leaves Ianto with a strange feeling of being displaced, like he’s not where he’s supposed to be. Which is ridiculous, because he has nowhere to be. Not anymore.

He rubs the crusty sleep from his eyes and crawls over to the table to retrieve the waiting cup of coffee. It’s from that place just round the corner - the only evidence of Jack’s visit - and it’s cold. With a grimace, he drinks it anyway and begins to pull some clothes on. Some of his boxes have been moved, rifled through, because of course, _of course_ Jack has gone through his things. Ianto would be angry, he _should_ be angry, but it’s all just too far away. Jack has every right to be suspicious. Fool me once, and all that. Oh, how he’d fooled Jack. Right under his very nose, and Jack is completely nuts if he thinks that was _easy_. Or fun.

Ianto’s hands had shaken from the constant fear. He’s shaking now. No plan. He has no plan. Groping for his keys on the little table by his bed, his clumsy, trembling hands knock them off and into an open box on the floor. Reaching in, his fingers meet cool, dusty leather. His diary, untouched since Canary Wharf. Drawing it out of the box, Ianto stares at it. He couldn’t bring himself to write down things about Lisa, about the bat- the _massacre_. To lie in writing, in black and white. Because he’d known, even then some part of him must have known.

He could pretend like none of it ever happened.

Ianto leaves his flat just shy of midnight. He isn’t heading anywhere in particular, just picks a direction and starts walking. The air is warm and damp, as it is just after a storm, but there’s no evidence of recent rainfall. It’s at times like this he wishes he were a smoker; it would give him something to do with his hands.

There’s a section of the morgue that no one is permitted to enter. For as long as Ianto has been at Torchwood Three it has always been strictly forbidden. Not even Jack goes there. Ianto hadn’t cared before; for whatever reasons it was off-limits - housing the alien plague, perhaps - it was no concern of his. He wonders, now, if that is where Lisa is being kept. What did they do with her?

A flash of dark grey catches his attention, flapping against long legs running through the park. A sight as familiar to him as anything. And something else, larger, hairy, tearing through the trees. The two shapes meld and then break apart in the pale light from the moon hanging low in the sky. Jack gets knocked off his feet and lands in the damp grass and the larger form bolts through the trees.

Sharp, burning flickers of pain and resentment blaze through Ianto, tinged with an overwhelming sense of relief and… He doesn’t need to put a name to all of it. Not now. His legs are moving almost of their own accord and he catches up to Jack quickly.

Jack accepts the hand up he offers, but doesn’t let his grip linger as he once would have. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I was just out for a walk. You looked like you needed help.” Ianto won’t be intimidated, won’t be cowed by Jack Harkness. Not today. “But I could always go and let that thing tear you to shreds. Since I’m on suspension, I won’t have to take care of your bloody coat, either, will I?”

Then Jack grins that patented Harkness grin, a challenge, a warning and a come on all at once. “You did say you’d watch me suffer and die. Here’s your big chance.”

And Ianto freezes, looks down at his…

… _hands, raw and bloodied, the metal of the conversion unit scraping his skin off, but he has to finish quickly, she can’t last long out of it, he has to hurry. A thin trickle of_ …

… _blood remains, staining the concrete by the water tower where not an hour ago Jack had been lying dead and the others can’t know, they can’t see, so Ianto scrubs, he scrubs for all he’s worth, down on his_ …

… _knees soaked in her blood and he almost misses that high, mechanical voice that wasn’t really hers, if he could just hear it once more, if she would only come back, lifeless eyes staring_ …

… _up at Jack looking down at him, beckoning him to be silent, tingling spark running down his spine and he_ …

… shivers, avoiding Jack’s eyes. “I’ve seen that plenty, actually. I think I’m good.” They stand in silence, but eventually Jack starts walking and Ianto gives himself no choice but to follow. “So, what are we dealing with here?”

“Werewolf. Sort of,” Jack says over his shoulder, without looking back.

“Sort of? Never mind.” Tree branches whip past his face, catching at the thin material of his t-shirt and leaving scratches on his arms as he tries to keep pace with Jack. “Mistletoe. Isn’t that supposed to stop it?”

Jack stops and whirls around. “How do you know that?”

“It was in the London file. In eighteen-seventy-nine, Queen Victoria was attacked by a creature like a werewolf and that’s when she set up the Tor-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jack dismisses, waving his hand at Ianto. “Thing is, that doesn’t actually do anything. And this one is different, so it doesn’t matter. You’ve really got to get London out of your head.”

“Believe me, I’d like to,” he mutters under his breath as he follows Jack through the trees, going quiet. “So, what do we do?” he whispers. “It’s not like we have a light cannon handy. Silver bullets?”

“No. We’re not going to kill it.”

“Then what-”

It flies out of the trees and Ianto barely has time to react before Jack is on top of him. They land, hard, on the ground and it knocks the wind out of him. He stares up into Jack’s face and this is all too familiar. He’d laugh if he could get the air into his lungs. Jack leans up off of him, fingers gently touching the side of Ianto’s face and then Ianto does laugh, a small puff of breath. “Nice save.”

Jack grins down at him. “Any time. When I say, you run. Go!” And Jack is up and hauling Ianto with him then pushing him in the other direction, but it’s too late.

The creature barrels into Jack, knocking him flat. It turns its massive head and stares right at Ianto. “Shit.”

He’s running, feet pounding the dirt, sliding in the dewy grass. It’s just behind him, its hot, stinking breath puffing out and there’s nowhere to go. Nothing but trees and Ianto hasn’t climbed a tree in over ten years, but he’s leaping up, grasping a long, low branch. The bark scrapes the skin off his palms and the branch wobbles. It’s going to snap, it’s going to snap and he’s going to die and maybe it’s just the adrenaline rush, but he cares. He _cares_ and he doesn’t want to die like this as the branch snaps and he’s falling to the ground and it’s almost on top of him and he’s-

“Ianto!” Jack yells as the massive creature crumples to the ground between them. Jack stands, gun raised, and Ianto just stares at him from his place on the ground, trying to catch his breath. The spell breaks and Jack rushes over, his hands are everywhere and it feels… he can _feel_. “Ianto? Are you OK? Are you hurt?”

“I can’t move.”

“What? Why not?”

“You’re sitting on me.” *

Jack hauls him to his feet, patting down his sides. “Did it get you? A bite? Or even a tiny scratch? Anything?”

“No, it didn’t touch me.”

“Did any of its saliva get on you or in your mouth?”

“What?” Ianto makes an ‘Ew!’ face, but Jack looks serious. Ianto shakes his head, “No.”

A worried expression still on his face, Jack’s hands continue to rove over Ianto’s body, checking for injury. And he’s practically babbling. On another day, a day a few weeks ago even, Ianto might have made a quip about copping a feel.

“Jack,” Ianto exhales, in a quiet voice. He steps forward, brushing past Jack’s shoulder, and takes two tentative steps. “He’s just a kid.” The body of a pale, naked young man lays face down, arms flung out over his head with his legs curled up.

Jack steps up beside him. “Dammit. I was hoping to take this one alive.” At Ianto’s questioning look, he explains, “It’s not the same as before. UNIT has a whole division working on this. It’s like a virus and they might come up with a cure. We could have saved others.” Jack wipes his arm across his brow, revealing angry red marks on his hand.

Ianto grabs his hand to look more closely. “Did it get you?”

Jack’s eyes drift from Ianto’s face to their joined hands and back. “No, that’s from earlier. Damn dinosaur bit me while I was trying to look at her broken wing.”

Dropping Jack’s hand, Ianto takes a single step away, rage flaring again. “Can you blame her?”

“No.” Jack almost sounds… defeated. But that’s not Jack. “Her wing is healing, though.”

Ianto stares at the boy’s body. “There was nothing I could do.”

“No. I really don’t think so.”

“You held a gun to my head.”

Beside him, Jack stiffens. “Yes, I did.” The heat from Jack’s body radiates in the rapidly cooling night air. “I was angry and… and scared and people were dying and it was a gut reaction.”

“You would have done it, too.”

“Yes.” His voice is hard, but calm. “I would have. _If._ If I thought you were a threat.”

Ianto nods, absently, as his eyes fill and the world blurs. “Why do you keep saving me?” Jack hovers beside him, his hand up, as if to pat Ianto’s shoulder, but he never touches. Nor does he give any answer. Ianto doesn’t want the tears to spill, doesn’t want Jack to see. “What are you going to-”

“Let me worry about it. You should go on home.”

But Ianto stubbornly gestures to the body. “I could help you-”

“No. I’ve got it. Just go, Ianto. Just go.” And then Jack’s warm hand lands heavily on the back of his neck and Jack whispers, “We’re not ready for you to come back yet.”

When Ianto reaches his flat, closing and locking the door solidly behind him, he strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed, beneath the green and blue quilt. He picks up his diary, finds a pen in the box, and he begins writing. He writes down everything he can remember from that time. It’s jumbled and parts of it are completely out of order. It won’t be the truth of how he’d felt then, but it’s the truth of what he knows now. And maybe that’s better.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Having just rewatched _Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the movie)_ for the 1st time in possibly ten years, I had to smack myself in the forehead, because I _knew_ that I was not that clever. I don't want to change the line now, but proper credit goes to Joss Whedon. The line, slightly different, is near the very, very end of the movie, for reference. 11/03/08


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

\- **Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime… I need a fix 'cause I'm going down**.  
\- The Beatles, Happiness is a Warm Gun

 

Rhys is at the door, waiting for it to roll open, when they return. To Jack’s amusement, they manage to startle a little yelp out of the man by coming up behind him from the tunnel to the garage instead.

He rushes over to Gwen’s side, gesturing to his head and babbling, “What the bloody hell are these things for if you don’t answer?!”

Jack tries not to laugh. Gwen huffs, blowing her hair out of her face. “Rhys. Not. Now.”

“Eh, little help, maybe?” Jack looks pointedly at Rhys as he begins losing his grip, the thick fur sliding out of his hands. It took all four of them to carry the unconscious alien from the SUV, its bulky fur suit not helping matters any. Rhys worms himself in next to Gwen to reach his arms under their heavy burden and lift.

On his other side, John lets go. “I’m bleeding!” he protests, holding his bandaged arm up at Jack’s hard glare.

“You’re going to be _dying_ in a moment if you don’t move out of the way.” Ianto shoulders past, hefting the alien’s legs up. He looks to Jack, questioning.

“Autopsy bay?”

“What? Jack-”

“It might need medical attention, Gwen.”

“We’ll never get it down there,” Ianto points out. “Plus, the table is far too small.”

“How ’bout the sofa?” suggests Jack.

“We’re just going to dump an alien on the _sofa_?” Gwen blows her hair out of her face again. “Just hurry. It’s slipping.”

They struggle through the hub, arguing about where to put their… guest? And eventually, somehow, it’s decided to take it into the room that had been set up for John, just off the main corridor. All the while, Gwen pants from exertion, Rhys grunts, Jack’s mind wanders, Ianto is silent, and John stands back giving _helpful_ directions. They lay the alien on the small camp bed, propping its feet up on a chair that Ianto drags in from another storage room. It is an absolutely ridiculous sight.

Jack points at John, ordering, “Get your arm cleaned up. Gwen?” He focuses on her; she’s leaning against Rhys with a hand to her stomach. “Alright?”

“Of course she’s not bloody alright!” Rhys snaps. “She’s barely healed from the last time you nearly got her killed!” With his arm around Gwen’s waist, Rhys eyes the creature. “What is that?”

“Rhys.” Gwen clenches her teeth, but speaks calmly. “Do us a favor and get us some water, yeah?” She pats his arm in a dismissive way Jack would have found incredibly annoying, but Rhys merely glares at _him_ before backing out of the room. Gwen then turns to him and waves at the table. “So then, what is it, Jack?”

Hesitating, Jack glances around, wondering where Ianto has gone just as he appears in the doorway. He seems to be OK, although looking a bit pale and winded. In his hand, he holds the portable med-kit scanner. It makes nearly inaudible beeps as Ianto raises it toward the alien. Jack studies it, too, and he’s coming up blank.

“You really have been out of the game for a while, haven’t you?” John gives that haughty, _‘I know more than you’_ laugh. “It’s a Sn-” he starts and stops. “A Snripgh-” he tries again, frowning and gnawing his lip. “It’s a Snrigpha-”

“The High Watchers?” Jack interrupts, surprised. John plants a hand on his hip and Jack rolls his eyes at him. “I’m not even going to attempt the native language. How can you be sure? You’ve never even seen them before.”

“Maybe _you_ haven’t, but loads of things happened after you buggered off and left me.” It’s astounding, really, how John can manage to sound both petulant and condescending in one sentence. “The-” John rolls his eyes, and deigns to use the rough English translation, “High Watchers are very distinctive in appearance. Or didn’t you notice the markings on its head?”

Jack hadn’t, actually, and, looking to his team, it would appear they hadn’t, either. Instead of responding, Jack simply crosses his arms and stares back at John.

“One of the most superior species in the known universe-”

Jack snorts. “Superior as compared to 21st century Earth humans, maybe. _Most_ superior in the universe? Sorry, don’t think so,” he says, shaking his head. “They’re advanced in technology and warfare.”

Gwen’s eyes widen. “What?”

“They don’t wage wars,” John argues.

“No.” Jack nods his head. “They sit back and watch. And reap the benefits. Never offer assistance and don’t bother with the cleanup.”

“Ooh, look who suddenly remembers his lessons. The point is one of them has made its way here and your boy-” John points to Ianto. “Nearly assassinated it.”

Ianto flinches. Jack might have missed it if he hadn’t been standing right next to him. He hadn’t noticed Rhys reappearing in the doorway with a bottle of water that he hands to Gwen, and this is just escalating out of his control rather faster than Jack would like. Leaning toward John, he tells him, harshly, “Since you know so much, you’re going to find out how it got here and how to send it back.” He points to Ianto and Gwen. “You two, conference room. Now.”

“Jack!” Gwen cries, resentfully, as he sweeps past her.

“No arguments. Thanks for all your help, Rhys.” Jack claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger. Actually, yes. Be a stranger to the hub in future. Always nice seeing you, though.”

Spluttering, Rhys goes very red in the face, but Jack sidesteps him, turning back, and hooks a hand around John’s neck. He drags the other man out the door and forces him to walk in front. John struggles, but Jack simply holds up the control box for the alien cuff.

“Ah, ah.” He adjusts the settings and points to John’s arm and the blood-soaked bandage. “Get that taken care of first. You’re bleeding all over my base.” John opens his mouth to argue and, feeling Ianto come up at his side, Jack just points toward the med bay, repeating, “Go.”

As John stalks off in a huff, Gwen hustles past with Rhys. Ianto is busily staring at the scanner.

Leaning close, Jack asks him, “You alright?”

“I thought it was going for Gwen,” Ianto says, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, Ianto.”

“I hope I didn’t hurt it too badly.”

“No, I’m pretty sure the bulk of its injuries were sustained before it got here.” He bends his head close to Ianto and gestures toward the scanner. “What’s that say?”

“It’s fine, mostly. Unconscious and no serious internal damage. And…” Ianto swipes his tongue out over his lower lip in that cute, nervous manner of his.

Jack wants to bite that lip and nibble his way over Ianto’s jaw. “And?”

“It… I took two scans in quick succession and its injuries were considerably less on the second pass. It appears to be healing itself, just like-” Ianto leaves the rest unsaid.

Jack offers him a weary smile and places a hand on Ianto’s arm. “It’s not like me.”

Ianto nods just once, a tiny motion. “Should we…” he trails off and Jack gets the feeling that Ianto has no idea how to finish that at all.

“You should be thinking of ways to apologize to it,” John calls out, striding back over to them, his boots clomping across the metal grating of the floor. He finishes tying a new bandage around his arm, covering the old one and the blood stains. “And you should know better than that, Jack. There’s no way to _send_ it anywhere it doesn’t want to go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack sees Gwen gently nudging Rhys out the door. She gives him a quick kiss and a, “Goodbye, sweetheart,” before it rolls closed, cutting him off. As she comes up the steps, Jack raises a questioning eyebrow at her and Gwen explains, “I told him I’d be home as soon as this is sorted. So, let’s get this sorted.”

“There’s nothing to _sort_.” John fumbles with the new bandage on his arm, hands shaking. “There’s nothing you can _make_ it do. Might just be stuck with it, Jack.”

Gwen side-steps John and comes around to the tech work station. “Is this thing dangerous?”

“Will be now that you’ve gone and pissed it off.” John grins, patting dully at his bandaged arm.

Jack moves close to Ianto and puts a hand on his arm. “Ianto? Coffee? This might be a long night.”

“Of course.” Ianto turns on his heel and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Jack thinks he sees a relieved look on his face.

Nodding, Jack points to the tech computer. “Gwen, pull up the video feed from John’s room. See what our alien is up to.”

“You’ve got a camera in my room?” John sidles up to Gwen and looks over her shoulder at the monitor. “Oh, you dirty girl. If you wanted to watch, you only had to ask. I’d put on a show for you any day.” He’s speaking to Gwen, but he’s staring over at Jack.

Behind him, Ianto makes a small noise in his throat and Jack can practically _feel_ the eye roll. Ianto sets his tray down and hands Jack his blue-striped mug. “It’s not fresh,” he says, apologetically, but Jack gets it; although grateful for the chance to escape, Ianto hadn’t wanted to miss anything. He places Gwen’s mug next to her on the desk and, after a moment’s hesitation, offers one to John.

John eyes it, distastefully. “Never touch the stuff. Can’t be too careful about what you put into your body.”

Jack takes a large gulp of his coffee, then grins at Ianto. It’s not fresh, but it’s warm and strong.

“Looks like it’s still unconscious, Jack.” Gwen turns from the monitor, her eyes pleading for him to tell her what to do.

But John speaks first. “It’ll be knitting itself back together. They can do that after being injured, go into a sort of induced sleep and heal themselves. Normally, I think, it would wait to be in a secure place. This one must have been really bad off to do it here.”

Ianto lowers his eyes, holding his coffee up like a shield. Jack says, “They’re travelers, always landing in new worlds. That’s dangerous no matter who or what you are.”

“Yeah,” John agrees, “they send ambassadors to negotiate treaties and trade agreements with other species. And for all you know, you may have just started an intergalactic war by nearly killing one of their princes.” He has a smug look on his face, gesturing to his head. “The markings? On the forehead? It’s one of a proud and protective species and you are holding it prisoner. Not to mention being very rude to royalty.”

Gwen pushes away from the desk and turns on John. “You keep saying ‘it’ - you don’t think that’s a bit rude?”

John sighs. “They’re a single-sex species. ‘It’ is the only appropriate pronoun you have in your limited, primitive language.”

“Gwen. Get the readings from the time it came through.”

“There’s nothing you can do!” John barks. “Are you just going to keep it locked up down here?”

“It’s nine feet tall and pink. What else are we supposed to do?” Jack yells back at him. “The people of earth are not ready for aliens to be walking among them. It doesn’t happen yet and you know it!”

John marches up to Jack, his face barely an inch away. “ _Technologically_ advanced. You know what that means, _Jack_.” John wobbles, lists forward and Jack grabs his elbow. His breath ruffles Jack’s hair as he whispers, “We don’t belong here.”

“Are you-” Jack pushes back, keeping a hand on John’s arm to steady him. He notes the patch slapped onto John’s neck and the new bandage already soaking through with blood, and sighs. “Gwen, readings. You know how to run the analysis, right?”

She hesitates, biting her lip. “Um… I watched Tosh do it lots of times. I think I…” She looks sideways to Ianto, still standing apart from the group. “Ianto’s really better at this, Jack.”

John chooses that moment to pass out; Jack catches him before he can slide to the floor. “I need you to do it, Gwen. Run into any problems, just holler. Ianto!”

Together they carry John down to the medical bay and lay him out on the table.

“Jack!” Gwen’s voice, loud and panicked, carries down to them.

Ianto takes John’s bandaged arm from Jack’s hands. “Go, I’ve got this.”

With a nod, Jack hurries up the steps to Gwen. She turns to him as he approaches. “It’s not supposed to do that, is it?”

He leans past her to check the output data. “No, no, it’s fine. You just need to…” He taps a few keys and resets the analysis. “There.” Running a hand over her hair, he cups her chin and tilts her face up to his. “You’re doing good, Gwen.” She smiles up at him. He asks, “Could you send that to my office? Thanks.”

Jack throws his coat over his chair in his office and carefully removes his holster, laying it on the desk. Pulling up the images on the monitor, he hovers, not quite ready to sit. John is still out in the med bay as Ianto works around him and the alien is also in its own state of unconsciousness, its fur suit is wrapped close around its body, hiding anything beneath.

Jack flips open his wrist strap to do a quick scan for alien tech. And there it is, components nearly identical. Keeping one eye on the CCTV, Jack allows the grin to spread over his face.

 

\- **I hope that you died in a decent pair of shoes; you’ve got a lot of long walking to do where you’re going to**.  
\- Sunset Rubdown, Idiot Heart

 

“Just work, you stupid piece of shizzzz-”

Waking up slowly, Jack’s vision swims into focus and his mouth tastes like burnt toast. The fire has dwindled and the little room above the pub is growing cold.

He must have blacked out. Sitting up, he studies the exposed wiring of his vortex manipulator laid out on the table before him. The bit of metal he’d broken off the wall sconce lantern and fashioned into a crude tool is still clutched in his right hand. The skin of his palm tingles, feels a little like it had been burned, but it’s smooth and clear. He must have taken a mild jolt, that’s all.

“OK,” he mutters, shaking himself, “probably shouldn’t do that again.”

He’s been stuck here for two months. Two _linear_ months. Stuck. On Earth. In the _eighteen-hundreds_! It really just can’t get any worse. He hopes. The Doctor has to come back; the rift, it had been _active_ just before Jack arrived. Not only active, _wide open_. But that was the past Doctor. Rose had told him about that, the brave girl who’d died closing the rift to save the planet.

If only he had a way to get in touch. It’s not like he can send out a distress signal and risk the wrong people intercepting it. The Time Agency is still looking for him, after all. Jack grasps the wrist strap in his fist- _If they could make something that actually works properly_! - but he freezes, his arm in mid-throw aimed at the tiny fireplace. This is the only thing he has left.

“Maybe if I…” he mutters, touching the end of the metal rod to the open circuitry. A lightning bolt zings up his arm causing him to drop the rod to the floor. Jack coughs, his hair standing on end. _Where’s a sonic screwdriver when you need one_? Anything, anything to get back there.

 

\- **I don’t need anybody, ‘cause I learned to be alone anywhere. Anywhere I’m gonna lay my head, I’m gonna call my home**.  
\- Tom Waits, Anywhere I Lay My Head

 

“Like what you’ve done with the place,” Jack remarks, as he’s marched to his cell. He bumps his cuffed wrists together, the harsh clang of the chains echoing off the dirty walls. “Really, _ma’am_ ,” he exaggerates the word, “I never knew you had a thing for bondage.”

Margaret Cadden, the new acting head of Torchwood Three, keeps a perfectly straight - _pinched and hostile like a bulldog_ \- face as she directs her new henchman to toss Jack into the cell. His back hits the edge of the bench and he trips over his chained feet. But he grins up at her just the same. She’d never liked him, the bitch, it’s a wonder she’d spent so much time and energy tracking him down again. But she’ll keep him locked down here until he can play by their rules again.

But… that’s that. The Time Agency had owned him until he’d broken free. Now Torchwood owns him. And there’s no place to go.

A few hours later, James, the only familiar and friendly face left here in Cardiff, brings Jack’s meal down. His limp is even more pronounced than Jack remembers, face weathered with time, his old and withered hands clutching the tray. Jack accepts the plate of bread, hot bowl of soup, and the tin cup of water with a tiny nod and little smile for the old man. Jack watches him hobble away, body sagging and shrunken with age, wondering how many more years he’ll have. Unable to fight for his country on the front lines, James had been squirreled away and kept safe in the archives. He’s possibly the longest living member of the Torchwood Institute. Not counting Jack, of course.

They’d all been gone when Jack had returned, the war over, a completely new team in their place, but for the old man. Everything had been a little off and there are a couple of years that Jack doesn’t remember all that well. Not erased like before, just hazy, a whirlwind fog in his war-ravaged mind. Everything a bit less real.

He knows he’d looked Estelle up, although it had been years and he’d never written to her like he promised. He’d only wanted to see her again, that bright smile and those eyes full of awe, but she’d moved away. He’d assumed she’d finally met someone else, got married and had a family. And Jack’s happy for her, wherever she may be. It’s better this way.

But Cardiff was… _painful_. So, when Jack was sent on a mission abroad, he just… didn’t come back. Moving from place to place, getting lost, slipping through the cracks. Just like the old days, really. Big cities on big planets, easy to hide in. Big deserts, big jungles, too.

And there was always a war somewhere. A people or a place that needed able bodies. Jack had done what he could while he could, spitting in the face of Torchwood and the Time Agency; one raging against the future and the other trying to control the past. And Jack, forever stuck, not really existing in either, making futile attempts at living.

According to James, there was a sighting just a few months ago in London - _‘The mysterious blue box had appeared, with a blond girl and a man in a suit.’_ \- around the time of the Queen’s Coronation. Seems there was a massive cleanup operation for Torchwood One, as well.

Sliding along the bench, Jack lays his head down, chained feet dangling off the end. He really doesn’t want another fifty years of this.

 

\- **Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist**.  
\- George Carlin

 

“ _Jack, what is it?_ ” Suzie buzzes in his earpiece. “ _We’ve got all that equipment to pack away, yet_.”

“This won’t take long,” he assures her, watching as she makes her way across the plass followed by Owen and Toshiko. “Just go to the spot I told you.”

“ _We’ve_ seen _the water tower, Harkness_ ,” Owen grumbles.

As the three approach the water tower, looking around with their backs to him, Jack grins. “OK, check this out.” He steps off the curb and slaps Owen on the arse, saying, “Now you see me,” before hopping back up onto the curb, “now you don’t.”

“What..?” Tosh spins around and stares, dumbstruck, then takes a tentative step forward.

Jack hops off the curb, back in front of his team. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“You just appeared out of nowhere.” Tosh puts her hand out, but pulls it back as if afraid of losing the limb.

“It’s OK.” Jack laughs and jumps back up. “Can you see me now?”

“That’s amazing!” Tosh claps her hands together, smiling up at him. Suzie stands back with her arms crossed in front of her.

Owen takes a couple of steps forward, frowning. “You sent us out to the middle of fucking nowhere to investigate ‘phantom lights’ and you were here playing with-” Jack leans forward, then back again. “Will you stop doing that, Harkness! How does that work, anyway?”

Standing back out in front of them, Jack explains, “It’s a perception filter fused to this spot. You can sorta see it now that you know it’s there, but it’s virtually invisible to anybody else. And that’s not all. Come on, step up here.” Hopping back up, he gestures for them to stand next to him. “Come on, come on, it won’t hurt you.”

Making sure everyone is within the boundary, Jack flips his wrist strap open and presses the button. The ground beneath them lurches. Tosh squeals and grabs onto Owen’s arm. She immediately lets go, turning her face away. Owen stands rigid, shoulders tensing as they descend into the hub.

Suzie smiles coolly. “It’s an invisible lift.”

“It’s an invisible lift!” Jack grins back, rocking on his heels.

As soon as the platform comes to a halt, Jack bounces off, happily. Suzie follows, more subdued, and Owen practically leaps away.

Toshiko steps down, gingerly, and walks around the platform, inspecting it from all sides. “You used that laser knife to cut the stone, didn’t you?”

Jack grins, proud of his amazing little genius.

“You said it didn’t work!”

“No, Owen, I said _you_ couldn’t use it.”

Owen huffs and glares at him. Tosh has more questions about the mechanism, but Jack studies Suzie as she methodically walks around the platform.

She looks up at him with an odd almost-smile on her face. “You didn’t happen to cause that big earthquake we were hearing about on the radio news while you were messing about with this, did you?”

Jack pauses for just a fraction of a second. “That… was an accident. And not entirely my fault.” Looking around the base you’d almost never be able to tell there’d been any disturbance at all. He’d done a fair job of cleaning up any major damage and it just looks like the normal amount of hub-disaster. As the day had approached, Jack manufactured ‘sightings’ so he could send the others away and he’d been tempted, oh God how he’d been tempted to just sneak into the TARDIS as it sat just above his head and stow away in its labyrinth of rooms. He’d put the hub in lockdown for the duration, instead, watching it all play out on the CCTV and working on a way to spin the disappearing mayor incident.

The first time the Doctor has shown up since the century has turned and that… Maybe _that_ had been his chance and he’d _missed_ it!

His team begins to wander away, already bored with his new toy. “Where are you all going?”

“Equipment!” Suzie reminds him. “It won’t pack itself away.”

“And,” Owen butts in, “we’ve got to file our pointless findings about those ‘lights.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waves them away. “But, hey, come on. Invisible lift!”

“Uh-huh. What happens if someone falls in?”

 

\- **Watching you run into the high noon sun, watching you run farther than guns will go. You are a runner with a stolen voice. You are a runner and I am my father's son**.  
\- Wolf Parade, You Are a Runner and I Am My Father’s Son

 

Tripping over a box of plasters strewn haphazardly on the floor, Ianto takes another deep breath and forces himself to calm down. The medical bay is still a disaster area and, what with all the commotion recently, he still hasn’t had the time to order and restock the supplies.

John had awoken while Ianto was cleaning the wound on his arm and hasn’t stopped talking since.

Setting the suture kit aside, Ianto holds up the needle by John’s arm, his hands steady. “I’m not a doctor, so this is probably going to hurt.”

John rolls his head to look up at him, slurring, “Can’t feel anything, Eye Candy.”

“Oh. Lucky you.” Ianto keeps his eyes on his work, forcing himself from trying to _make_ it hurt. At least John has finally shut up. One more story about how it _used to be_ … with Jack-

And where the hell is Jack, anyway? He should be down here stitching his ex back together. This is _not_ Ianto’s job.

“Ow! OK, I can feel _that_.” John mumbles something in an alien language that couldn’t be anything but obscene. “Try not to leave a scar.”

Concentrating, Ianto refrains from rolling his eyes. “Oh, just…

… _shut up, Owen. Human skin is considerably different than fabric!” Ianto hunches his shoulder up to wipe the sweat from his eyes. If Jack were here, he’d be the one doing this. Owen turns to have a look, grousing, “Well, then hold the mirror up so I can see what you’re doing to my_ skin _!” To which Ianto replies, “I need both of my hands for this. It would be fine if you’d_ …

… stop moving about; I’m almost done.” He ties off the thread and smoothes a new, clean bandage over the damaged skin. _‘Leave a scar!’_ Ianto does roll his eyes, now. John’s whole arm is already a mass of twisted and snarled scar tissue. Pushing away from the table, Ianto stoops to pick up the box from the floor and grabs the suture kit to put away. “You’re fine now, just… stay.”

“Bossy. Gotta love it.” Jack appears at the railing, looking down. He motions for Ianto to follow him and points at John. “Do as he says. _Stay there_.”

John grins, murmuring something in that foreign language again and, whether he understands or not, Jack smiles and shakes his head.

In the conference room, Gwen is already seated with several pages spread out before her. “I’m not sure I’m reading this right, but this set of rift spikes look just like all the others _except_ for the ones we got when John first came through.”

Jack nods, leaning over her shoulder. “Meaning it’s of the normal variety and not manufactured.”

Ianto frowns, tipping his head forward to read the printouts. “But you think this alien has the power to do that?” His eyes dart to Jack of their own volition, an instinct he can never quite control.

“The technology, yes.” Jack nods, his lips curving up into that little half-smile of his.

Ianto looks away. “If that’s the case, then this alien can travel in time, too? Just like…” he gestures vaguely toward the med bay where John still lies. “What’s to stop him now?” He meets Jack’s eyes again, glad once more that Jack can’t read minds.

“Yeah. Advanced technology, teleportation, time-travel, all that fun stuff,” Jack confirms. “But it’s not like some random device that can be used by anyone. It’s internal and only responds to their genetic code.”

“And John couldn’t figure out a way to use that technology?” Gwen asks. “I mean, you’ve had him playing with our random tech for days now. He’s not stupid, he’s dangerous.”

“He’s not that good.” Jack leans back against the table, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Trust me. I already knew most of that stuff was just junk. If any of it were still actually useful, I’d have made use of it. That weevil remote control? Already broken. He pays no attention to detail and is easily distracted.”

“So, you were just… keeping him busy,” Ianto concludes. “And what now? He’s found his new ticket, what do we do, Jack?”

Grinning, Jack pushes away from the table. “Let’s go meet our alien.”

In the small storage room, the creature is sitting up on the bed, long legs bent at an absurd angle with its knees up to its chest. Its head is shiny pink, smaller than a human’s, and rests in its massive hands. It looks up as they enter and - human, animal or alien - there is no mistaking the fear in its eyes.

Jack saunters forward with that swagger that Ianto both admires and despairs of in almost equal measure. His arrogance a front, Jack stands between Ianto and Gwen and the alien. “Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Captain. Jack. Harkness,” it replies, though it has no mouth, in that same mechanical reproduction of Jack’s voice.

“OK.” Jack turns, one eyebrow raised. “That’s just creepy.”

“Why does it sound like that?” Gwen whispers, holding herself rigid beside Ianto.

“The communicator’s busted.” John’s voice behind him startles Ianto, but not enough to make him jump. He turns and steps aside to let John pass. Or to give Jack a clear shot at him, at least. John wobbles a bit as he approaches the alien, gesturing to its head. “This is a pretty shoddy job, here. You had this done illegally, didn’t you?”

The alien cants its head to look at John. “I was not allowed to travel,” it responds, again in a grating imitation of Jack. The sound seems to emanate from the metal contraption embedded in the side of its head. “But in the kk-cchssshhh- chaossshhhhh-” The artificial voice dissolves into radio static, ascending into a high-pitched drone.

Gwen covers her ears, wincing at the sound. John drops to one knee before the alien, a move seemingly very uncharacteristic of him, putting himself lower than all the others in the room. He says something that sounds like, _‘purple koala,’_ but… probably wasn’t, and slowly reaches his hands up to the alien’s head. He twists his fingers and the sound stops. “Is that better?”

The alien is slow to respond this time, but its voice is different now. It still sounds like Jack, but with less mechanical undertones. “Yes. Thank you. I escaped before the… invaders. We lost Kor-eh-vay-yet,” the word comes out slowly, as though phonetically spoken.

“What’s Kor-” Gwen starts but John interrupts her.

“It’s a planet. When you say lost, you don’t mean it was conquered, do you?”

The alien moves its hands in what appears to be the equivalent of shaking one’s head. “No. Just gone.”

“You’ve slipped in time, as well.” John frowns down at the floor a moment, before standing abruptly. When he speaks again it’s in that language that Ianto can’t understand.

Jack seems to be following, if his face is anything to go by. Ianto wonders how you could _lose_ an entire planet. Gwen worries her lip between her teeth. “Jack-”

But Jack cuts her off. “There’s not much he can do right now.” John is still leaning against the wall, conversing with the alien. Jack shifts his feet. “It’s lost. I don’t think it means us or the planet any harm…” He pauses, his right hand absently fiddling with the strap on his left wrist.

The room shakes and Ianto stumbles back, putting out a hand to catch himself and then Gwen before they both fall to the floor. As he looks up he sees John jumping back and the alien shimmers in a glow of bright light. Then it is gone. And so is Jack.

“What was that?” Gwen surges forward, grabbing John by the collar of his shirt. “What did you do?!”

Ianto leans back against the wall, bringing a hand up to his head, his breath coming in soft, short puffs, as the world slows to a standstill and the sound of Gwen’s voice fades into the distance.

It was one thing watching Jack running _away_ from them and _toward_ something. It’s entirely something else to see Jack vanish right before his eyes.

 

\- **As we do at such times, I turned on my automatic pilot and went through the motions of normalcy on the outside, so that I could concentrate all my powers on surviving the near-mortal wound inside**.  
\- Sonia Johnson

 

Outside the door, Ianto can hear the others still arguing. Gwen’s voice carries the most throughout the hub. He had quietly slipped away, tired of all the yelling and no closer to a decision, retreating to Jack’s office, a place far more familiar and comfortable than it probably should be.

The desk is facing the wrong direction. Gwen had gone and moved things. Ianto’d had to bite his tongue on several occasions to keep himself from asking just who the hell she thought she was.

Gwen is the one who still believes Jack is coming back, so why should Ianto be upset at making changes in his absence? It’s not that it is too soon, because life moves so much faster in Torchwood. Maybe, this time, Ianto just doesn’t have a plan anymore. He has no compass, no direction.

Jack had given him purpose. Maybe Jack had _been_ his purpose. Now that he’s gone…

The hothouse is a nice addition, though. Owen’s idea, surprisingly, and at least it keeps him occupied. Creepy science experiments may not be entirely healthy, but they’ve served to keep Owen from getting wasted in bars every night or eaten by weevils.

A missing hospital in London seems almost small compared to some of the things Ianto has seen in his time with Torchwood and, really, that falls more under UNIT’s jurisdiction than theirs. Tosh wants to investigate, but Gwen is adamant that they don’t leave Cardiff. Sometimes Ianto thinks she might even move into the hub if she thought it would bring Jack back any faster. She just doesn’t want to miss him.

Ianto misses him and it’s only been a few weeks. It’s awful to think it, but he might just miss Jack more than he misses Lisa. And _God_ the pain is still raw, like fire burning his insides and he misses her so much sometimes. All the little things they did and never got the chance to do. The hurt that is, and always will be, his lost future with Lisa is a steady aching, almost comforting in its constancy.

But the place where Jack should be is just… _empty_. Not vacant, but gone, setting Ianto adrift, aimless and without meaning.

“Oi! You in there?” Owen pokes his head round the door to Jack’s office.

It _is_ still Jack’s office, they seem to have come to some silent agreement, no matter the changes. Ianto shakes himself and blinks at the doorway. “Sorry. I was just…” His hands flutter over the desk, for once clean of stacks of paperwork, further evidence of Jack’s absence, before giving up the pretense. “Staring at the wall.” He settles his gaze on the one item sitting on top of the otherwise clean surface.

Owen saunters in and paces around, pretending to look at things, so obviously trying to appear casual. Ianto waits him out and eventually he turns and speaks. “What’s that?” He gestures at the small box wrapped in shiny red paper, taking a seat on the other side of the desk.

Ianto smiles, in spite of himself, and carefully lifts the top off the box. “It’s Jack’s stopwatch. It got broken one night when we-”

“Yeah, no details, thanks.”

“I took it to get repaired and was going to give it to him at Christmas, but I never got the chance.” Gently, Ianto picks the stopwatch up, cradling it in his palm. He turns it this way and that, watching the light reflect off the surface before slipping it into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Are they any closer to a decision about the London situation?”

Owen shrugs. “I say let UNIT have it. What can we really do, anyway?”

Nodding, Ianto silently agrees. “You sort of just let Gwen take over.”

“Yeah, well…” Owen looks away, out through the glass, into the hub. “After the whole end of the world thing, it’s a bit of a tossup who is second in command. Besides, we both know I’d only muck it up.”

“Your mother rang a few hours ago, I guess panicking over the whole ‘disappearing hospital’ trick. I told her you were in surgery. Why does she think you still work at the hospital?”

“Cuz, I send her money every month and never see her. What ‘bout yours? What’s she think you do?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t spoken to my mother in ten years.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know where she is.” Ianto stands abruptly. “She disappeared when I was fourteen.” He pauses when Owen looks at him with something resembling concern. “Not that kind of disappeared. She said goodbye first.” He grabs his coat from the hook on the wall and throws it on, sliding his arms in and buttoning up.

“Where you going?”

“Pub. I think we could use a drink, don’t you?”

“What do we tell the girls?” Owen asks, as they skirt past the main chamber of the hub - and Gwen and Tosh still talking - toward the corridor leading to the garage entrance.

“They sound busy to me.”

Owen doesn’t ask about Jack. Doesn’t ask what they did, what they were, doesn’t ask if Ianto misses him. Perhaps because Owen really just doesn’t want to know and doesn’t care. Or maybe he already knows, and understands enough not to ask. Ianto lets himself believe the latter. Just once, just for one moment he’d like to believe in the good of people.

 

\- **The most successful people are those who are good at plan B**.  
\- James Yorke

 

“You bring him back, right now!” Gwen slams John against the wall, nearly lifting him off the ground with the force of her anger and desperation.

The world shrinks and seems to slip sideways before sliding back into place; Ianto shakes his head to clear the haze. Pushing himself away from the wall, he stands, solid, blocking the doorway.

“It-” John croaks, “-not me.”

They don’t often carry their guns while in the hub. Gwen had already removed and stored hers, but Ianto had never taken his off; it’s still secure in its holster beneath his suit jacket. He keeps this in the back of his mind, knowing that if John so much as twitches, he won’t hesitate to put a bullet in the smarmy bastard.

“Gwen, let him down. He’s no use if he can’t speak. Unfortunately.”

Shoving John, his face turning dark red and throat white with her finger marks, one last time, Gwen releases him and backs off. John coughs, bent over with his hands on his knees, then looks up and croaks, “Wasn’t me. Don’t know-”

“What just happened?” Ianto is surprised by his own commanding tone.

John shakes his head, still catching his breath.

“Was it the rift?” Gwen looks to Ianto.

“The rift is never that precise. Jack was standing right next to me; it would have taken us, too.” Ianto narrows his eyes at John. “Unless…” He shuffles backward, twisting and nearly falling over in his rush to get out the door and down the corridor toward the tech computer. Vaguely he hears Gwen and John following behind him.

He calls up the rift activity log on the monitor and quickly scrolls through. “There’s nothing. Not a spike, not a dip, nothing registered at all. Not even a trace of rift energy.”

“What does that mean?” Gwen is suddenly right beside him, looking over his shoulder.

“Do you seriously think that whoever could just yoink your fearless leader right out of your base like that would be detected by your little computers?” John holds his hands up as they round on him. “No offense,” he says, not as though he really means it. “I’m sure this is all very advanced by your standards, but it’s kid stuff where I’m from.”

Gwen plants her hands on her hips. “And where’s that, exactly?”

Ignoring her, John mumbles, “Might go toward explaining the readings on that thing recently.” He moves to the rift monitor, but stops short from actually touching it when Ianto blocks him. Instead, he turns back to Gwen to explain, “This rift here, right, it _bleeds_ energy. All the time, constantly. Everything here and around it is soaked in residual energy. You, everyone, _everything_ in this city. Now, it’s not really harmful or anything, but just enough to leave its signature. You with me?”

Ianto and Gwen exchange glances. John doesn’t wait for a response. “There are different signatures. Things that came through to this side have a different stamp than something that _belongs_ here and now. Your computer genius knew enough to work that out, I think.” He gestures toward the desk that once belonged to Toshiko.

“But look, I’ve been going over this for days and it’s been getting _nothing_ recently, right? Nothing, as in no energy. Which is impossible and I should have worked this out sooner.” John laughs, quietly, raising a hand to his head. “Jack should have worked this out. He’s been stuck here too long. Something is blocking it. Absolutely nothing new came recently?”

Ianto glares at him. “If the energy is being blocked from our system, then how would we know if something’s come through?”

“The alien!” Gwen practically shouts. “Jack said it was advanced; could it have done all this?”

“But we got a rift alert when it came through,” Ianto argues.

“Well, sure.” Gwen nods. “But it could have been a plan. Set it all up so that it could get in here and… and take Jack. Maybe?”

Shaking his head, John says, “No. They can only transport themselves.” He rolls his eyes, laughing a breathy disappointed laugh. “Besides, its system was faulty and improperly installed. They communicate telepathically with their own species, but they need that-” he gestures to his head, reminding them of the metal contraption the alien had “-in order to communicate with other species. But not everyone is allowed that, so it wasn’t done well, obviously. Besides, it-”

“What about the Weevil Magnet?” Gwen suddenly asks. They both turn to her, confused. “That big, metal thing,” she elaborates, gesturing to her stomach and the claw marks beneath her shirt.

“What magnet?”

“No, it was this… It was like a computer.” Ianto waves his hand wildly, then runs it over his hair. “Organic technology! That’s what Jack said, but it was dead. Burnt out inside.”

John frowns, his eyes shifting away to look out at nothing, before cutting sharply back to Ianto. “Describe it. What did it look like, sound like, smell like?”

“It-” Ianto stops, looks at John. _Smell like?_ Shaking his head, he continues, “It was just a large, metal… thing. Really heavy and… it changed shape. And it knocked the power out when we dropped it. That’s when the rift predictor and the alert system went offline and we had to reset it.”

“What?”

Ianto waves absently at Gwen, but keeps looking at John. “And there was no rift spike when it appeared. We might not have found it at all if it hadn’t been for the weevils.”

“Where is it now?”

“Sealed away in the secure archive. Jack…” Ianto pauses, thinking back. He licks his lips and swallows thickly. “Normally, Jack would have had Tosh research it. But we just put it away,” he says, dimly, “and then forgot about it.”

Beside him, Gwen sucks in her breath and lets it out slowly. “So. Do you think that thing might be what’s blocking the rift monitor? And if it is, why? Did someone send it through to get to Jack? Who could do that?” She directs all of her questions at John and Ianto has never been more grateful for her ability to take charge.

John grins, that grin that Ianto has learned never to trust. “I know how to find out.” He starts backing up toward Jack’s office. “And we can trace Jack.”

Gwen and Ianto hurry after him. He’s in the office, rummaging around Jack’s desk, tugging on the drawers until he gets to one that won’t open. “Aha. Got a key for this?”

Ianto steps over to stand in front of the desk. “It’s locked for a reason. Only Jack has the keys.”

He sees John move like a flash and knows what is happening. He’s always telling Jack not to leave his gun laying out on his desk like that.

John has it out of its holster and in his hand, aimed right at Ianto. “There must be a spare; I’m sure you know where it is.”

“No.”

“Let me rephrase that.” John swings his arm so that he’s aiming at Gwen instead. “Give me the key or I put a hole in her pretty little head.”

Ianto looks to Gwen. She’s the leader, not him, when Jack is gone. He can’t be the one to make these decisions. He doesn’t want to be.

She jerks her head in a slight nod and he reluctantly moves to the side wall of Jack’s office. There’s a simple, yet hidden lever; Ianto fits his fingers just right and a false brick slides open.

“Where did that-”

“Sorry, Gwen. Even I’m not supposed to know about this one.” Ianto reaches in and removes one of the many boxes stored within. He clicks the lid open to pluck out a ring of keys and, hesitating a moment, hands it over to John.

He hastily gets the drawer open. “You know, someone should really have a chat with him about the lack of security in this place.” John’s grin widens as he lifts the black wrist strap out of the drawer, the one that… Gray had used to cause so much damage, and Ianto understands why Jack had been hiding it. John flips it open, holding it up to his face. “Here we go.”

“You can call up Jack’s wrist strap with that one, right?”

“Better. I can trace Jack’s energy signature.”

Gwen glances at Ianto, then raises her chin stubbornly and steps toward John. “What does that mean? You just said everything on this side has the same rift signature. I know Jack isn’t from here, but he’s been here longer than anyone.”

“Yeah,” John agrees. “And he’s different from anything else, too. How do you think I knew he was here in the 21st century to begin with?”

“So, you did show up here deliberately,” Ianto says, quietly, staring John levelly in the eye. “Were you working with Jack’s- With him then, too?”

“No.” John averts his eyes, almost as though he’s ashamed. “That was before… before I knew what had happened to him. Thought it was just a fluke, ending up here that first time. Couldn’t believe my luck.” He laughs, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “A rift storm, no matter how advanced the tech or knowledgeable a person is, can’t be controlled like that. Those canisters could have ended up in an infinite number of places and times. But they ended up _here_. Because of Jack.”

“How?” Gwen demands. “And how did you know he was here?”

“There are a lot of contributing factors and it’s all very complicated and would take a long time to explain. Not that you’d understand half of it, anyway.”

Ianto folds his arms over his chest. “Dumb it down for us.”

John exhales loudly, rolling is eyes. “Jack is… I don’t know what he is anymore. But that… whatever that is that keeps him here, keeps him _living_ , it’s like… Do you lot know anything about time-travel? Anything real? No, probably not, doesn’t matter. This,” he holds up the wrist strap, “is called a Vortex Manipulator. There was a massive temporal anomaly just before I arrived here - I know that much, but no clue what it was - and I’d also picked up traces of Jack’s Vortex Manipulator teleport function having been used recently.”

“His doesn’t work, anymore,” Ianto argues. “It burnt out a long time ago.”

“Well, it did briefly, because I traced it. Stupid man…” John shakes his head, sucking his cheeks in and laughing. “He’s lucky they gave him up for dead. Not that there’s enough of a team to be looking for him, anyway.”

“ _Who?_ ” Gwen demands, more agitated this time.

Ianto stares at the wrist strap and smiles softly. “The Time Agency.”

“Defunct Time Agency,” John confirms. “But, yeah, them. And only they would be able to track him like that. I just don’t know why they would. Not anymore.”

“But they took the alien, too,” Gwen reminds them. “Could it have been working _with_ them?”

“It wasn’t, trust me.”

Ianto’s jaw clenches. “We don’t.”

“It told me it was caught in a rift storm, too, and that brought it straight here, because-”

“Because of Jack.” Gwen flaps her arms at her sides. “But that still doesn’t make any sense.”

John stares up at the ceiling. “Oh, fuck, how to explain this. It’s energy. Jack’s energy. We use the Vortex to travel through time. _Vortex_ Manipulator, yeah?” He waggles the wrist strap at them. “It’s not like a power source, more like a navigation system. Sort of, it would take too long to explain it to you. But Jack is like… he’s like True North. He’s where the compass points and everything travels around him, like a steady center giving our bearings.”

Ianto leans back against the wall. ‘Oh dear God. Pseudo-scientific proof that Jack actually _is_ the center of the universe.’ God help them all if he ever hears that.

A soft breathy laugh escapes John. “I wasn’t even sure it was _him_. He’s like… all of _time_.” John leans forward with his hands on the desk, and narrows his eyes. “Jack is… everything, or nothing, like eternity. How the fuck did he manage that?”

Gwen stares, mouth gaping for a moment, before she snaps, “Why should we believe a word you say?”

“Do you want to save Jack or not?” The wrist strap in his hand beeps. “Hah! And there he is.” John slaps it around his arm, fastening it, and flips it open-

“No! Wait!” Both Ianto and Gwen yell out and lunge for John, each grasping him by the shoulders to stop him, but then the world twists forward and backward and Ianto’s bones are wrenched, separated from his body and all of his internal organs are on the outside.

\---

Bones and lungs and heart squeeze back in together and Ianto’s head is spinning, but the ground is solid beneath his feet again. The ground. Dirt and grass and dead leaves crunching under his palms. He is crouched on the ground trying to catch his breath, the chill air and damp smell of decay assailing his senses. Gwen is just a few feet away, bent over with her hands on her knees.

Ianto cranes his neck to see up into the dark sky overhead. _Oh, God!_ They could be anywhere, any _when_ , on a different planet or-

Gwen’s eyes are wide when she looks up at him. “What-” She gets cut off by a loud whirring, ripping noise and a crackling fizz of electricity above them. Ianto looks up. And freezes.

Jack is hanging several feet off the ground, suspended in the air, arms spread wide like he’s strapped into something… Something that Ianto can only half see. There’s a soft light all around Jack, like the air itself is glowing or reflecting, and the tall trees around them are bent at unnatural angles away from the clearing they’re in.

There is a loud hiss and the light intensifies. John steps up next to Ianto, but he barely notices. A door is opening - out of thin air - descending and settling on the ground, forming a ramp. At the top, three figures stand, silhouetted against bright blue.

Gwen stumbles over to Ianto, reaching her hand out to him. “It’s…”

“It’s a sodding invisible spaceship.” Ianto sucks in a deep breath, slow getting to his feet, his eyes going back, involuntarily, to Jack. He could be unconscious or…

As they move down the ramp, the figures become recognizable: three men, followed by a woman They descend the ramp and spread out in a large circle. Each holds a weapon, small and sleek, shining silver in the light, and all trained at Ianto, Gwen and-

“Oi!” And, of course, John is the first to engage.

The tallest man, wearing yellow leather-like trousers and a torn white shirt, steps forward. His dark hair is long and swept back by a red band. The gun in his right hand is miniscule compared to Jack’s Webley in John’s left.

“Did you follow me here?” John calls out to him over the continuous buzzing whir of the ship.

“Who would be looking for you?” The man sneers and spits into the dirt. “Nice looking friends.” He gestures toward Gwen and Ianto. “Thought you’d gone solo. But I see you found _him_ , finally. Mind you, he ain’t quite the same now, is he?”

Ianto follows the man’s gaze up to Jack. It could be the light, but he thinks he sees Jack’s eyes flicker.

“What do you want?”

“We came here to retrieve something. We were offered very generous compensation.” The man grins - all wide, straight, white teeth - the kind of grin that would eat a man alive. “Found something better.”

That’s when Jack wakes up. Screaming.

Gwen surges forward shouting, “Let him go!” and Ianto catches her around the waist, struggling to hold her back.

Blue-white bolts of electricity sputter around Jack, jerking his body. He’s held fast in a recessed port in the front of the ship, hanging by his arms and chest. “What’s it doing to him?” Ianto’s voice is barely audible over the roaring wind and Jack’s screams.

The man in the hideous yellow trousers shrugs. “Energy costs, you know.” He waves the woman to his left forward and she raises her gun level with John’s head. “This place is bursting with spare energy, but we really need something a bit more portable.”

The ground beneath their feet quakes and Ianto is thrown to his knees. A tree splits with a thunderous crack and falls backward into the woods. A patch of grass to his left sinks away into the dirt, leaving a small crater.

Gwen falls down next to him, crying out, “What’s happening?”

A fifth person, another man, emerges from the ship, running down the ramp. “Gotta go, boss! That rift is tearing wide open!”

“Take care of them. _Him_ especially,” Yellow Trousers snarls to the man on his right, before turning on his heel. “The rest of you, with me. Seal it up!” he yells to the guy on the ramp.

The harsh reverb of grinding gears sounds and Jack slowly begins disappearing from view, still screaming, as part of the ship’s invisible shielding covers over him.

Ianto staggers to his feet, pulling his gun smoothly out of the holster. He barely has time to ready himself, before John is there, in a stand-off with Yellow Trousers, guns aimed at one another. “You’re pulling the rift apart. It’ll destroy this whole fucking planet!”

“That’s not our problem. It’ll all just be darkness soon,” the man hisses, lips pulling back, baring his teeth. “What do you care, anyway?”

Ianto sucks in a breath, holds it, eyes darting between John, the man, and the steadily disappearing Jack. He blinks and John swings his arm up and left and shoots Jack right between the eyes. 

The lightning streaks arcing over Jack's body stop abruptly; the ship judders, the whirring stops, the lights blink out, and Jack is released. He falls, smacking his head on the edge of the ship with a sickening thud and dropping to the ground in a crumple of ragged clothing and boneless limbs.

In the chaos that ensues, Ianto shields the unarmed Gwen as John shoots Yellow Trousers in the head, snatching the small gun from his hand before his body even hits the ground, and takes out the others with some sort of pulse from the futuristic weapon.

Time freezes, spins out, and the quaking ground stills. The air is dry and tight with electricity as the rift energy settles. The bodies lie, fallen at awkward angles, on the ground around them, John standing in the middle and staring down at nothing.

Absently, Ianto feels Gwen push past him and she reaches Jack’s side first, dropping to her knees and gently pressing a hand to his neck. Eyes on Jack’s blankly staring face, Ianto makes his way over more slowly. Gwen has one hand covering her mouth and he knows she must be crying. No matter how many times they see it, they never get used to the sight of Jack dead.

A shadow behind her catches Ianto’s eye. He raises his gun, shouting, “Gwen, look out!” as a woman storms down the ramp with a long, thin weapon held high. She jerks to a stop, falls backward toppling off the ramp and Ianto barely registers the slight kick in his hand, his finger squeezing the trigger.

Somewhere behind him John is muttering, “…flaming blew the circuitry, you bloody little hitch-hikers. There’s a reason it’s made for one person.”

Taking a deep breath, Ianto steps around one of the bodies and presses his gun to the side of John’s head. “Gwen. Please come and relieve the captain here of Jack’s possessions.”

John smirks, trying to turn his head, and Ianto digs the muzzle of his gun into John’s temple. Wiping at her eyes, Gwen approaches shakily, glancing behind her at the woman’s body. John half shakes his head, Jack’s Webley dangling from one hand, the other holding the tiny pulse weapon. Gwen takes them both and Ianto gestures to the strap around John’s wrist.

“That, too.”

“It’s burnt out now,” John says, unfastening the band and handing it over to Gwen. “God, Jack has the worst luck, doesn’t he.”

Ianto only _just_ restrains himself from pistol-whipping John upside his head. Instead, he trades weapons with Gwen, giving her the more familiar semi-automatic and taking the tiny future gun, the wrist strap and Jack’s Webley, sliding it awkwardly into his own holster. “Watch him. He moves? Shoot him in the kneecaps.”

Gwen steadies her aim at John, not taking her eyes off him, as she speaks to Ianto. “What will you be doing?”

“Someone needs to clean up the mess.”

There’s no other place to stash the bodies. As Ianto drags the last one up the ramp and into the ship he thinks that, by now, he really should be used to the ‘stashing bodies’ part of his job description. He takes care not to look around inside too closely - there isn’t time for that now - but he manages to find a suitable place to lay them out. He does so as respectfully as he can - closing their eyes, laying their arms out by their sides, with an inch or so of space between them - even if he doesn’t believe these people deserved such care in life.

A small noise behind him catches his attention. It’s a soft rustling just a little way further into the cargo bay. Drawing Jack’s Webley from his side holster, Ianto creeps along the wall, ducking his head low to avoid banging it on the various pipes and compartments above. Taking a deep breath - it was stupid, _stupid_ not to check for more crew members - he steps cautiously through an oval doorway, heart racing, gun shaking in his trembling hand, ready to-

The alien’s small, round eyes stare up at him; High Watcher, Jack had called it. Its legs and arms are bound with thick rope. For that, Ianto is grateful. It’s not manacles or cuffs made of hyper-steel or whatever. Rope, he can do.

It not being injured is a relief; he’s had about enough of hauling bodies around. Working on the knots around the alien’s wrists, Ianto says, “They were after you, weren’t they? What for?”

Its hands free, it helps him work the ropes off its legs. “My… people. Have. Lost.” The words come out stilted and slow, as though the translator has to search for the right terms. Advanced alien technology or not, nothing is perfect. And it still sounds like Jack; they’re really going to have to do something about that, before it drives Ianto mad.

When they emerge from the ship, Gwen is kicking John in the shin and yelling at him, her hair flying around her face, and she’s waving the gun like a mallet. She stops when she sees him. “Ianto! I was just-”

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, trying not to laugh as John cowers away from her. “Please, as you were.” He absolutely does not look over at Jack, still lying on the ground. Dead.

Gwen looks past his shoulder to the alien towering over them, holding its fur suit close around its body, before flicking her eyes back to his.

“Oh, you found it.” John fidgets from foot to foot and Ianto realizes he must be cold in just that thin t-shirt. Good.

“We’ll need to seal this place off until we can get _that_ ,” he says to Gwen, gesturing toward the ship, still mostly invisible but for the open door, “taken care of.”

“Right.” She nods, reaching into her jeans pocket to pull out her mobile phone and waggle it in Ianto’s face. “Good thing between the two of us we’re just a little bit prepared for being teleported God knows where without any warning.” She stops, looking around the wooded area. “So, um…”

“We should find out where we are, exactly…” Ianto glances around, worriedly, the creeping fear that they could be displaced anywhere in time or space seeping back in.

John clears his throat, loudly. They both look and he points behind them to the edge of the trees, and a dirt path just beyond. In the low light provided by the smattering of stars overhead, Ianto can just make out a sign that reads, ‘Jubilee Fields Campsite.’ He gives a shaky laugh. They’re only just outside of Cardiff! Gwen is already on the phone to PC Davidson, giving out orders.

“Alright,” she says to Ianto, a moment later. “I’ve got it set up. It’s off-season, but there are a few people still here, so they’ll be moved out and away from the area and then no one, at all, will be allowed into the campgrounds. Fortunately, that’s… mostly invisible. Except for the…” She waves her hand toward the ship. They can’t really see it, just a shimmering in the air like the heat haze above a burning desert. But the door is still open. Ianto hadn’t found a way to close it.

“Gimme.” John holds his hand out and Ianto ignores him.

Gwen chews her lip, not looking at either of them. “How are we going to get back to the hub?” She jerks her head toward the nine foot tall, pink alien. “I mean, it’s not as though we can just hitch a ride in one of the police vehicles, is it?”

“We could commandeer an ambulance or something. Jack and Owen always liked commandeering things.” Ianto tries to smile for her. “But really, we can’t just leave this ship unattended like that.”

Gwen sighs. “I suppose I could call Rhys.” She flips her phone open again and steps away.

“Give it here; I’ll fix it.” John shoves his hand at Ianto’s chest. When Ianto still doesn’t react, John huffs, “Fine,” and marches over toward Jack.

“Hiya, love! Yeah, still working. Long night. I know, it’s just- No, Rhys, listen to me. Um, well the thing is…”

Ianto jolts into action, moving to stop him, but John already has Jack’s arm up, wrist strap open. There’s a loud hiss and the door to the ship begins closing slowly.

Faintly, Ianto can still hear Gwen’s side of the conversation. “Yes, we’re stuck out here and we sort of need a ride back- No, Jack can’t do anything at the moment, could you just-”

“There.” John wipes his hand on his t-shirt, leaving a dark smear.

“Well, I don’t know, Rhys, look it up on a bloody map! I know you wanted a new GPS, but I told you that Jack said that ATMOS system thing was- Oh, just bloody hurry and get here, would you? Bye, love.” 

Ianto sinks to the ground by Jack’s head, legs folding up underneath him. There’s blood along Jack’s collar and his shirt is in tatters, long gashes and deep puncture wounds on his forearms, sticky with drying blood. Maybe he’d fought back. Ianto likes to think so.

Above him, Gwen speaks softly, “Rhys’ll be here any minute now.”

He stares into Jack’s lifeless eyes, digs his arms under Jack’s shoulders, grass and dirt smearing his hands, and tugs Jack toward him. “Come on, Jack. I can’t lift you by myself.”

But when someone tries to help, Ianto kicks out at them; he doesn’t even care who it is, all he sees is John’s face. He pulls Jack up, holding him tight to his chest. And he could be screaming, _‘Get off him!’_ But the sound of his voice is lost and it might not be words at all.

In the end, Rhys can’t get past the police barrier until Gwen goes to sort it out. Also, his car has _not_ got any bigger since the last time they’d had to do this. There’s a bit of a marital spat when Rhys pulls up in his own car instead of a work’s van. He and Gwen yell at each other for a few minutes, but Ianto barely hears them. Though he wonders, idly, if heated arguments are as good for their sex life as they have been for his.

The alien has to sit up front (And doesn’t that just freak Rhys out a bit as he drives?) but it’s dark enough out so that anyone looking in shouldn’t be able to see it. They lay Jack out across their laps in the back seat, his legs bent up, feet in John’s arms, and his head pillowed on Ianto’s shoulder. They tell Rhys he’s unconscious, but Ianto thinks he probably knows the truth. Or part of the truth, anyway.

Gwen is squished in the middle, with her arms around Jack’s waist to hold him in place as the car rocks and jostles along the road. Her head is pushed up against Ianto’s arm and her breath is warm on the side of his neck. Her voice is soft, hollow sounding. “They were just people.”

“So’s he.” Ianto bumps her with his shoulder. “Friends of yours, were they?” he asks John.

John shrugs, the movement telegraphed through his shoulder bumping Gwen sideways, in turn nudging Ianto. “Well… they all went a bit mad, you know.”

Ianto nods, absently, knocking his head against the cold glass. Right… _They?_ He brings his hand up to stroke Jack’s hair and his fingers come away sticky and streaked with blood.

Next to him, Gwen’s shaking her head. “So, is that what humanity becomes?”

“At least this time nobody was planning to eat us. Probably.” Ianto hopes that Rhys won’t be upset over the blood stains on the upholstery. “D’you think there are cannibals in the future?”

Gwen laughs, breathily, in his ear. “Well… If the growing rate of population keeps on the way it is…”

The car really is too small and Ianto is getting a cramp in his legs. Jack’s head is heavy on his shoulder. Just at this moment, being in Torchwood is a little bit absurd.

It takes both Ianto and Gwen to carry Jack down into the hub. No one else even tries to touch him. Gwen has his legs and Ianto struggles to walk backward while bearing most of Jack’s weight. He grunts, fingers slipping, and grasps Jack’s grey braces tightly in his fists. “Starting tomorrow, Jack’s going on a diet. No more pastries for breakfast. And pizza only once a week.”

Gwen laughs nervously, looking away from him.

Ianto steers them toward the autopsy bay, leaving Rhys, John and the alien in the middle of the hub. Together, he and Gwen lay Jack out on the table. It’s not preferable, but his clothes are covered in blood. They could use what Ianto likes to call the ‘Dentist’s Torture Chair,’ but it’s been dismantled and put in storage for the time being. As Ianto steps back, Jack’s hand flops away from his side and dangles off the edge of the table. Ianto grasps the hand and places it gently back on Jack’s chest, holding it there for a moment.

Gwen breathes in deep and lets it out, sniffling. Her mouth trembles, but her voice is strong. “He’ll wake up soon.”

“Yeah.” Ianto nods. Giving her a tight smile, he starts backing away. “And ten quid says the first thing he’ll want is coffee.”

“That’s a sucker’s bet, that is,” Gwen calls out after him as he flees up the steps. Not long ago, she might have tried to make him stay.

The routine of making the coffee calms his nerves, shutting his mind off. But two hours later, the steaming mug of coffee in Jack’s blue-striped mug has gone cold and Jack is still dead.

While they wait, Ianto works on damage control, scouring the net for the usual websites and eradicating any mentions of ‘strange lights, noises, or other out-of-this-world’ sightings while Gwen sits with Jack. 

Ianto sets up a room for their alien - not a cell, but an actual room - and makes sure it knows to stay put for the time being. Gwen keeps Rhys out of the way, as she works on the phone - coordinating with the police to guarantee the cordon stays up for as long as necessary. There’s still an invisible spaceship full of bodies to contend with and Ianto thinks, maybe, they’ll have to call in UNIT on this one, but it will have to wait. Jack hates giving up his toys.

John skulks about along the railing above the autopsy bay. Staring. Ianto silently rebukes himself for forgetting the alien cuff around John’s ankle. But he makes up for it by taking advantage of the fact that John seems to have forgotten, as well. Sending discreet intermittent shocks while he’s working is fun until John realizes and disables the cuff.

Ianto retreats to Jack’s office, to put the black box remote control away. He starts straightening up the papers on Jack’s desk and when he’s finished with that he just sort of freezes. There’s always a million things that need to be done in the archives or up in the tourist office, but both are just too far away.

And he needs to be here and be ready. This time he won’t have to say…

… _“I gave up on you. Twice, Jack.” Ianto avoids looking Jack in the eye, instead staring at the buttons of Jack’s coat_ …

… slung across his desk chair. Ianto reaches for and picks it up. He moves swiftly through the hub, passing Gwen sitting with Rhys on the sofa and John leaning on the railing, down the steps and into the med bay. Carefully, he drapes the coat over Jack, pulling it up high on his chest. The blood is dry now, it won’t stain. Besides, the coat’s seen worse.

He stares at Jack’s face, still and colorless, his hair limp against his forehead. He can’t even fool himself that Jack is sleeping, because even when he’s asleep he’s still bursting with life.

When Ianto glances up, he meets John’s eye for a moment and hates the way John looks at him. And at Jack. Like he knows something. Ianto does his best not to squirm under that gaze, not to fidget with his jacket or reach up to adjust his tie. He stares back down at Jack instead.

It’s worse this time, because _this time_ he really believes Jack will come back. He believes it with everything he is, so he waits. And he _will_ wait for as long as it takes.

Turning away, Ianto breathes deeply, counting off the seconds in his head. He begins gathering tools and supplies left lying out, starts opening cupboards overhead, clearing things away, tidying, taking inventory. Anything at all.

 

\- **Love is a grave mental disease**.  
\- Plato

 

The bay is beautiful at sunset, the darkening sky streaked with pink ribbon clouds and the lights glittering on the water. The gentle breeze, promising summer, ruffles Ianto’s hair and billows Jack’s coat as they walk along, eyes to the west, watching the light fade on the horizon.

Ianto stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, then quickly pulls them out again. His eyes dart toward Jack, then away, wondering what to say, to do. This would definitely be a first. Not the ‘not knowing what to say’ part, but… _this_. A date with Jack Harkness. It’s too unreal for words.

Jack clears his throat, breaking the silence, and says, “So, this is…”

“Awkward.”

“Yeah,” Jack responds quickly, nodding his head as though he’s surprised by that fact. “Were we awkward before?”

“Not so much once we got our clothes off.” But he smiles at Jack to let him know that he’s only half-serious.

They walk along in silence again. Occasionally, Ianto feels the back of Jack’s fingers brush against his own and he’s not sure if it’s intentional or accidental. Both options seem equally impossible. It’s such a small gesture, too small for Jack, far too hesitant to be deliberate. On the other hand, Jack is always in possession of himself, and no action of his is ever wholly unplanned. Except Jack _is_ hesitant. Awkward and indecisive where he used to be the picture of self-confidence.

They’ve kept this out of the office, away from Torchwood, away from the team, away from… the way things used to be. Jack still flirts with anyone and everyone - they’d think he was possessed if he ever stopped - and he’s still as brash and larger than life as he ever was when they are with the team. Yet, all that bravado seems to melt away when they are alone, like this.

Ianto struggles to remember the things they used to talk about. They _must_ have had some conversation between them before, something unrelated to Torchwood. But he’s beginning to think that maybe it was all just surface junk, nothing intimately personal. And that’s not hard to believe, at all. What does he have in common with this man called Jack Harkness, anyway, besides Torchwood?

They dissolve into nervous chatter. “I noticed you’ve bought some new suits.” Jack forces a grin. “I like them.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t buy them for you.”

“No, of course not,” Jack replies, lightly. “Especially if you really believed that I wasn’t coming back.”

Ianto refrains from responding. Because, _no_ , he really hadn’t believed that Jack would ever return. It’s not a question nor an accusation from Jack, but, somehow, it seems like Jack feels hurt by that. And Ianto has no idea why. He fidgets, tugging at his waistcoat and reaching up to adjust…

… _his tie as the doors close and the lift begins its descent down into the depths of the hub. He’s late this morning and he’ll have to lie to Jack when he asks._ If _he asks. One more little lie, one more tiny drop in the ocean. Jack won’t be angry, not after, not when he understands. It’s necessary._ Who is he betraying now? _No, none of that matters. Dr. Tanizaki is on his way; everything will be good. It’s choking him now, like a noose round his neck, this stifling facade. Sliding one finger between the soft material and his burning skin, Ianto loosens the_ …

… new tie he’d bought just before Jack had returned. It’s dark navy with thin, silver, diagonal stripes. Perhaps too somber for the occasion, but he really hadn’t known what to expect from Jack. On a date. His fingers reflexively go up to touch the tie again.

“I liked the red one you used to have.” Jack’s voice is light but nervous. “Red’s a good color. On you.”

“I still have that one. I’ve just been… sort of experimenting with different looks. I wore jeans to work for a few days while you were gone.”

“Damn. I missed that?”

“It didn’t feel like me, anymore. The suits… they fit now.”

“I’ve always thought so.” Jack stuffs his hands in his pockets and continues walking along in silence. After a moment, he stops and turns toward Ianto. “I got you something.” He tosses over a small, shiny object and Ianto catches it deftly.

At first, he thinks it’s his stopwatch, but, no, that’s safely in his pocket. Turning it over, Ianto blushes and bites his bottom lip. _Who would win_ , indeed. With a smirk, he tosses the measuring tape, in its antique silver case, back to Jack. “I think it was you that needed this, not me.”

Grinning, Jack reaches over to drop it into Ianto’s coat pocket. “But I want you to keep it.” He’s close, so close, that their breath and body heat mingle between them.

“And what am I supposed to do with it?”

Jack shrugs, removing his hand from Ianto’s coat pocket. “Look at it and think of me?”

Turning his face away, back toward the water, Ianto tries to hide the blush and grin. Quietly to himself, he whispers, “I can look at anything and think of you.”

He wasn’t going to let it happen again; that had been the plan. He’d lost himself before, without even realizing it. Yet, they’d still managed to do the whole thing backward. Because Ianto can’t stop his face from burning when Jack looks at him like that. Or the way his heart races and his breath stutters in his throat when Jack touches him. Kisses him. Lays him back on the bed. Or the desk. Over a chair. Up against the wall… And it had been a while for Ianto and he suspects even longer for Jack and they really can’t help themselves. _That_ part is always fine. Perfect. It’s the other stuff that feels strange, out of place.

He should tell Jack that all this really isn’t necessary. _Dates_. He wasn’t asking to be… He’d not been willing to just forgive Jack right away, some small petty part of him wanting to make Jack work for it, just a little bit. But he doesn’t need _this_. He’s not some jilted teenage _girl_. Ianto Jones does not need to be… _courted_. Not if Jack is only doing it out of some misguided attempt to appease him or apologize or whatever.

But it’s obvious that Jack _has_ done this before. It may have been a while and he may be a bit clumsy about it, but he knows what he’s doing. Mostly. He holds doors open like a gentleman and when they’d walked into the restaurant, he’d placed his hand just in the small of Ianto’s back, gently guiding, and pulled his chair out for him, as well. It makes Ianto smile, the old-fashioned mannerisms, and he wonders how much of that is Jack, and his 51st century upbringing, and how much of it was learned over the century he’d spent on earth. A walking contradiction in terms; Jack’s embodiment of the future and past should clash, and yet, the differences forever entwined, somehow, it just works.

Fingers brush against the back of his hand again and Ianto thinks to himself, _‘What the hell?’_ He grasps Jack’s hand and locks their fingers together. The surprised and pleased look on Jack’s face is worth it.

Jack won’t stop grinning at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Done what?”

Jack raises their joined hands up. “Held a man’s hand in public without having to constantly look over our shoulders.”

Ianto raises an eyebrow at him. “I never would have pegged you as the type to care what other people think.”

“Well, sure,” Jack shrugs, looking away, “there wouldn’t be any permanent consequences for me, but having your boyfriend get the crap kicked out of him while you’re being held down and forced to watch is not my idea of fun.”

Ianto pauses, his hand trapped in Jack’s, being pulled along. “That happened?” Jack has told many stories about past lovers, boyfriends even, but they were never… like this. Serious. It was always playful anecdotes, usually about sex. Nothing quite so… _real_.

“The seventies were fun. Lots of tight pants and open shirts, but still… society. You know.” Jack glances back at him, squeezes his hand a little tighter. “And way too many sideburns. Not a good look, by the way. Remind me of that if they ever come back in fashion.”

It takes a second for Ianto to adjust to the sudden shift; he glances around them, not quite worried, but... Things like that don’t happen with Jack. Not something so common, _everyday_ stupidity. Jack tugs on his hand again and he smiles, squeezing Jack’s hand back stuttering, “S-since when do you keep up with current fashion?”

“Yeah, kinda why I stopped after a while.”

Ianto shakes his head while Jack is looking off into the distance. The team seem to think that Ianto knows everything there is to know about Jack and… well, he likes to encourage that, actually. But for each single bit of information he’s discovered, there’s still the vast expanse of an entire universe yet unexplored. Every tiny piece of history that Jack reveals is not even the tip of the iceberg, but a frozen droplet, tiny molecules.

Ianto will never know all there is to know about Jack; there may not be enough time in the world for that.

All he has is this moment, Jack’s hand warm in his. He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t fall so easily again. It was an impossible ambition, anyway.

Jack had come back.

 

\- **I dreamt last night I saw you, a single spark explosion negotiating with the dead. By the bright lights in some ICU, on my chest you put your head and said, _There you are, there you are, there's my heart_**.  
\- Matthew Good, A Single Explosion

 

In the stifling, crushing dark, there’s a tiny pinprick of light and a soft tug, a pull right at the center of his-

Jack opens his eyes slowly, the blurry grey of the ceiling coming into focus. Oxygen re-inflates his lungs, rushing along in his blood to his brain and toes and fingertips. Everything is all healed up again.

There’s a warm weight by his side; Jack turns his head and, with a low, cracked voice, whispers, “Hey.”

Ianto starts, snuffling into the crushed wool of Jack’s coat bunched up beneath his head, and stands up quickly, knocking the little metal chair back with a screech. He blinks a few times and looks right into Jack’s eyes. “Welcome back.”

“How long was I-” Jack tries to lift his arm, to push himself up from the table, and groans; the muscles in his back seize up, twitching.

Ianto leans toward him. “Here, let me.” Jack tries to reach his arm around Ianto as he bends, but it doesn’t seem to want to work properly. Ianto gently places it over his shoulder and wraps both of his arms around Jack’s waist as he helps him to sit up. His large hands are warm on Jack’s lower back; his breath is hot and smells like coffee and mint as he whispers in Jack’s ear, “You were… out the whole night. Good morning.”

The skin of Ianto’s cheek against his is burning in comparison and a shiver rumbles down Jack’s spine as he tries to wrap his other arm around Ianto’s neck to draw the warmth into himself. He leans forward, resting all his weight against Ianto’s chest, and feels Ianto shift between his legs, one of his warm arms leaving Jack’s back for a moment before he feels the weight of fabric draped over his shoulders.

Ianto pulls back and tucks Jack’s coat around him, running his hands up and down Jack’s arms. He reaches up and brushes his fingers over Jack’s forehead, feathery touches on the same spot after the first time he’d watched Jack die.

“Do you want-”

“Where’s-” Jack stops, smiles. “You first.”

“I just-”

“Jack!”

He looks over his shoulder to see Gwen nearly tripping over in her rush to get down the stairs, arms flailing to keep her balance. She stops just short of them until Ianto reaches his arm out and draws her in. Her chin fits right into the hollow between Jack’s neck and shoulder, the soft roundness of her breasts pressing against him. He curls one arm around her waist and tightens his hold on Ianto, leaning into him, firm and solid.

Jack blows Gwen’s hair away from his mouth with a little laugh. “Don’t tell me you guys were worried.”

She breathes into his neck, hot and damp, and pulls back far enough to look him in the eye. “Who, us? ‘Course not.” She grins up at him, but her eyes are tired and sunken. “Besides, we know you’ll do anything to get out of doing the cleanup.”

He looks between her and Ianto. “What happened to the-”

“Taken care of,” Ianto answers, quickly. “More or less. There’s an invisible spaceship full of bodies, though, that I thought I’d leave for you.”

“Oh, thanks. Just what I always wanted.” Jack pauses. “Actually…”

“He’s back with us then?” John’s voice behind him is low and almost melodic. He’s playing at being indifferent, but there’s always a tell. Jack turns his head just enough to glimpse John out of the corner of his eye. If he truly didn't care, he wouldn’t have said anything at all.

Ianto straightens in his arms, spine going rigid. He clears his throat, stepping out of Jack’s grasp. “I’ve held off calling UNIT for as long as possible, but perhaps now that you’re-”

“Oh, do we have to? Talking to them always gives me such a headache. Maybe if-”

“Coffee.” Ianto gives him a short nod, but raises an eyebrow at Gwen before he turns away and walks up the stairs with measured, deliberate steps. 

Gwen laughs as Ianto passes. Her hand rubs gently up and down Jack’s forearm. “You’re cold,” she says softly.

Jack pinches the fabric of his torn shirt between two fingers to pluck it away from his skin. “And sticky.” The dried blood and sweat have crusted in the cotton. “I think a nice hot sponge bath would do the trick, Nurse Cooper.”

She grins, shaking her head and stepping away, stuffing her hands into her back pockets. “And I think I’d best wake Rhys.”

“Rhys is here?” But Gwen’s already halfway up the stairs. She glances back just once with a small smile on her face, before disappearing off into the hub, to her husband.

John walks slowly along the railing, staring down at Jack. “I used to say,” he starts, coming down the steps. “Right after you disappeared, I used to say, tell anyone I met, that if I ever saw you again I’d kill you.”

“Well,” Jack tilts his chin up, grinning. “I have to say, I’m impressed. Follow-through was never your strong suit.”

John’s eyelids flicker, but he doesn’t look away, doesn’t avoid Jack’s eyes. Neither Gwen nor Ianto would mention the fact that Jack _smells_ after coming back to life, of blood and other… things. But, of course, tact was never one of John’s strong suits, either. He wrinkles his nose up at Jack as he comes closer and Jack glares back at him.

“What’s it like?” John asks, eyes darker than Jack remembers. “When you’re dead?”

Jack stares, tips his head back just a little. The air around him is beginning to feel cool now.

With a shrug, John finally looks away. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll find out soon enough.” He shuffles his feet, hands tucked into the pockets of his ridiculously tight trousers. The bandage is gone from his arm, revealing the mutilated flesh, burnt and sliced and scarred. Back in the old days, the future, that could have been fixed right up, good as new in no time.

“I didn’t recognize any of them,” Jack says, after a while. “But they knew me.”

John simply shrugs again and leans back against the autopsy table next to him. “Things change. That didn’t stop in your absence.” John laughs, a short huff of air out his nose. “You never could stay still for very long. You were always looking, reaching for something else. Something only you could see.” He looks sideways at Jack. “You won’t stay here forever.”

“Here won’t be forever.” Jack stands unsteadily and brushes past him. At the bottom of the stairs, he stops and half turns back. “It was never-”

“I understand now.”

Jack pauses. “Understand what?”

“Why you never let yourself love anyone.”

The chill is worse all of a sudden, like a draft has blown through the room, sweeping up Jack’s spine. He clutches at his coat, still draped over his shoulders like a cape. Out in the hub, he hears voices and the distant hiss of the coffeemaker. John’s eyes stare blankly ahead.

Ianto had once asked Jack if he’d ever loved anyone. Owen had believed, and had tried to fit himself into the callous mold of Jack Harkness and Torchwood. Gwen’s implied it in a roundabout sort of way, when a situation arises. They’d seen, at those times, what they’d needed to see in him. 

Toshiko, even in her anger, had understood. Or so he’d thought. The dull ache in the pit of Jack’s stomach flares sharper for a moment. It must show on his face, because John pushes away from the table, sweeping a hand all around him and says, “It doesn’t get you anything in the end, does it?”

Studying John, Jack tries to remember the man he’d first met so very long ago. But it’s gone; he can’t get past that image he’s had of himself for over a century. Or longer. He can’t remember the people they were together, can’t remember how or why they’d stayed… partners.

Can’t remember if there was ever love between them.

Ianto’s shoes only make the tiniest of sounds on the floor, but Jack hears him anyway. It took a while, but he’s finally learned that trick. Ianto comes down the steps to stand beside him, holding his silver tray up, offering Jack his mug with a smile. Jack’s hands feel frozen as he cups them around the mug, brushing against Ianto’s fingers, looking up into Ianto’s bright…

… _eyes so cleverly dark and always up to something, hair wild and curly, his legs wrap so tightly around Jack’s waist, he thinks they’ll never let_ …

… _go to war together and change the universe. “It’ll be amazing! We’ll be heroes! We can’t just wait around for them to wipe us all out in wave after wave. Each year it gets worse! Your family! My dad and Gr-” The other boy surges forward, grabs him by the face and it’s their very first kiss. “OK. You know I’d follow you_ …

… _anywhere, Jack. We could go absolutely anywhere. In years to come, we could be out there, dancing among the stars,” Estelle informs him, quite seriously, pointing up into the night sky. Her eyes and her pale skin shine in the moonlight reflected off the_ …

… _water, frozen in hundred foot waves high above their heads. Jack catches Rose’s hand as she skates past him, laughing, and together they twirl in a big circle. She reaches back for the Doctor, pulling him along and he’s laughing that_ …

… _deep, throaty laugh was what Jack noticed first, coming from the parlor. But the first time he sees her, he stops in his tracks. She is so beautiful, dark eyes and dark hair cascading_ …

… _tears that he can no longer hold back, dripping down his face to stain the boy’s already blood soaked uniform, squeezing the slackening grip in his_ …

… _hand wrenched away; he imagines he can remember the feeling of loss in that moment, but he’ll never be sure if it was real or just something he made up in his head. Nerveless fingers fumble open his Vortex Manipulator, ready to leave this place like all the others. Gray’s still out there somewhere; he’ll keep looking, won’t stop until he_ …

… _finds someone to replace him. Jack’s not meant to be here; Torchwood is not his life and damn Alex for doing this to him. Damn Alex for making him feel like he belonged, making him want to stay here for_ …

… Ianto offers him a little smile and Jack releases his fingers.

After a moment, Ianto crosses the room and offers the other cup on the tray to John. “It’s tea,” he says when John does nothing. “No sugar.”

John takes the cup with a smirk, not missing the opportunity to runs his fingers over the back of Ianto’s knuckles. Ianto pulls his hand back, rolling his eyes. 

Jack touches his elbow, saying, “Come on,” guiding him back to the steps. “I need to clean up.” He lets Ianto go on ahead of him, before turning back to John. “Don’t find out too soon, eh?”

John holds his gaze, brow creasing, before turning away.

Walking through the hub on his way to his office, Jack stops short.

Gwen is sitting on the arm of the sofa, feet up on the seat, bringing her at about eye level with the alien sitting on the other end. Its head looks bizarrely small and bald, reflecting the low lights of the hub whenever it moves, and it’s wearing… bed sheets wrapped around it like a toga. They appear to be trying to hold a conversation. Gwen’s got that wide-eyed, lost little girl expression on her face, but she’s smiling. She’s even laughing.

She catches Jack’s eyes and turns to him, “We’re calling him- it Vic.”

The alien looks up at him, small, round eyes like two dark onyx stones. “Snchoghjjinnhwfwlvicvicvic,” it says.

The communicator crackles a bit. Ianto passes closely by Jack, whispering, “We’ve got to do something about its communicator thingy making it sound like you. It’s disturbing on many levels.”

Jack narrows his eyes as Ianto swiftly walks away. His voice sounds nothing like that, at all. He claps his hands together. “Right. Vic it is.” Glancing around the hub, Jack asks, “Aren’t we missing someone?”

Gwen sighs, exaggeratedly. “ _Rhys_ had to go to _work_.” She sounds mildly amused.

Jack grins. “Saving the world one shipment at a time. OK, kids, I need to… clean up, so don’t break anything while I’m-"

“Nhoossi,” the alien, Vic, says, stopping Jack in his tracks. The next words are in a language Jack’s nearly forgotten that he ever knew. But the meaning is clear: _You have far to go; your journey is not yet ended_.

 

\- **Sun shines in the rusty morning, skyline of the Olympus Mons; I think about it sometimes. Sun shines in the rusty morning, once I had a good fly**.  
\- The Pixies, Bird Dream of The Olympus Mons

 

“So… does it count as a date if all we’ve done is sneak away from the hub for lunch?”

“Yes.”

“But the first one got interrupted by a weevil.”

“Still counts.”

“And last time was just dinner; we didn’t even make it out of your flat.”

“You cooked; I’m counting it.”

“Alright.” Jack mock sighs, throwing his hands up in the air as though in surrender. Ianto smiles and that’s _all_ that counts. Jack taps his foot at the leg of his chair, grinning to himself at the blissful look on Ianto’s face as he takes a sip of his coffee. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are slightly flushed, hair still damp from running through the rain, and Jack would like to freeze this moment. After a year of… not having this, it feels so good to be back, to bask in the little things, like before.

“You keep saying that.”

He looks up, worried that he’s been thinking aloud again, and now Ianto is watching _him_. “Hm?”

Ianto rolls his eyes and ducks his head a little, setting his coffee cup down onto the table between them. The dissonant noise of the café around them is muffled by the glass partition separating their table from the rest, and the rain patters against the windowpane, racing down in shining streaks.

“Before. You… well, you’ve mentioned it a few times, how it was _before_ ,” Ianto continues, looking at him with sharp eyes. “Before you left, you mean? Jack, I’m not sure where you went or what happened-”

“It’s not-”

“And I’m not asking. It’s just that… well, we weren’t like this. Before. You and I, Jack. We were…” Ianto gazes up toward the ceiling then back down into Jack’s eyes, a soft smile curving just the corner of his mouth. “We were something, I suppose, but it’s different now. I’m different. You’re _very_ different. But sometimes I get the feeling you’ve been missing something that didn’t exist.”

“I-” But Jack can’t quite think of what he means. Months aboard the _Valiant_ spent mostly in isolation, save mealtimes and those few occasions when the Ma- And Jack’s thoughts had been all over the place, dreaming of sunlight and sand and sea and life. A life, his life, any life. He’d forgotten simple things like the taste of curry and the sound of Toshiko’s laughter. He’d craved silly, mundane things like cold, day old pizza and beer like they were the best meal he could ever have.

Had he remembered things that had never happened? He’d had vivid, waking dreams that he knows weren’t real and yet can still feel as viscerally as the knives that had sliced through him.

“Jack?”

“I don’t want to-”

“I don’t need to know every little thing about you, Jack. I’m not saying I don’t like listening. Not saying that I’m not interested. I like hearing about your life. Anything you want to tell me. Even the hard stuff. Even the scary bits.”

And Jack knows that Ianto isn’t talking about the monsters he’s faced.

“So, whatever you think this-” Ianto bites his lip, color creeping up from beneath his collar. “Anything you ever want to say, I’m… anything, whatever, Jack. Just clue me in occasionally, yeah?”

The rain is still pouring down, but the sun breaks through the clouds, casting shadows of tiny droplets from the window across the surface of the table and Ianto’s hands and face. He appears bright yet marred, only for that moment. Jack grins at him, nods his head. Memories and wishes so easily meld together.

“ _Jack? Sorry to interrupt your lunch_ -”

Startled, Jack quickly taps his earpiece. “Yeah, Tosh, what is it?”

“ _Small rift spike not far from you. It’s an object, maybe the size of a breadbox, and registering low meson energy signals. If you’re busy, Owen and I could_ -”

“Nah, Tosh, with Gwen still on holiday we need you to man the hub. I’ll get it, and I’m sending Ianto back with some of these pastries for you.”

Ianto raises an eyebrow at that and Jack signals for the bill. Ianto stands, walking around the table and lifting Jack’s coat from the back of his chair. “Go, I’ll take care of this,” he says, gesturing to Jack with the coat.

“But I’m-”

“Rift crisis, saving the world, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, Jack, which is more important here?” Ianto shakes the coat at him again and Jack turns, sliding his arms into the sleeves and allowing Ianto to settle the weight carefully onto his shoulders.

Before he steps away, Jack reaches up and cups Ianto’s face to kiss him quickly on the lips.

 

\- **I could smell your skin beside me and say I hope I'm here forever. Oh but, Captain, with your lovers… they will flame up and you won’t know that you are burning**.  
\- Okkervil River, For the Captain

 

It’s a while before the water runs clear, washing away all the blood from Jack’s skin.

He feels Ianto’s presence behind him in his shower room before Ianto’s hand touches his shoulder. Jack turns, blinking water and soap out of his eyes, reaches out to run his own hand down Ianto’s bare chest, grabs hold of his hip and pulls him in. There’s a wet slapping sound of skin as Ianto stumbles and falls against him. The water from the low showerhead sprays over Jack’s shoulder, trickling slick between their bodies. Ianto grips Jack’s arms, sliding up to his neck, cupping his face and holding him there. Ianto’s mouth, wet and warm, still tastes of coffee and mint. And salt.

Jack slides his arms around Ianto’s waist. He spares a single thought for Gwen, out in the hub, left to deal with John and an alien all on her own. But she’s capable. She’s fiery and strong, and Ianto is here and hard against him, shivering and in need of something.

Ianto pushes against him, turns them into the spray and Jack snuffs water up his nose, spluttering. But Ianto’s hand on the back of his head, fingers twisting in his hair, draws him in again and Jack doesn’t really need to breathe so much anyway. Ianto’s other hand slips across Jack’s back, fingers digging into the flesh.

A good thing about being of a near equal height - everything matches up just perfectly. Ianto makes a tiny sound, not quite a moan or a sob, into Jack’s mouth before pulling his lips away. 

“Come on,” Jack whispers in his ear and Ianto’s whole body shudders, rushing up and spilling out over Jack’s belly and hip. 

Ianto pushes his face between Jack’s neck and shoulder. He cries silently. Elegant and understated. Jack wraps his arms tight around him and they sort of sway there for a moment. Ianto leans heavily against him as he turns them into the spray, washing them clean again.

Ianto’s hands fall to Jack’s hips and one slides around to his arse as the other palms over his cock, though he’s still soft. Jack just pulls Ianto’s arms back around his waist, bringing their bodies even closer. Into his neck, Ianto mumbles, “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Hey. I’ve been taking care of myself for years. Long before I met you.”

Laying his head down on Jack’s shoulder again, Ianto sighs. “And you will long after…”

Jack kisses his forehead, running his hands up Ianto’s back and into his hair, letting the wet strands stick to his fingers. “You need a haircut.”

“Who’s got the time?” Ianto’s laugh is a hot breath against Jack’s neck.

Leaning back, Jack winces against the cold tiles of the shower wall, pulling Ianto with him. _Time_. “We should get back.”

Ianto’s arms tighten around Jack’s waist. “Just stay for a bit.”

\---

Threading the silk tie through his collar, Ianto stares at his reflection in the mirror. No doubt the others have taken note of their absence. He should be horribly embarrassed by this, but he’s not at all. And Jack is just grinning at him as he disappears up the ladder to his office. That wide, happy, Jack grin. Carefree. Alive.

It will just keep happening to Jack, over and over. Forever. And Ianto is a selfish bastard because he’s only happy that Jack is alive and will always be alive, no matter what.

He finds Jack and Gwen standing around the workbench on the mid-level of the hub, staring at the Weevil Magnet. It’s giving off a pale bluish glow.

“It works?”

Jack turns around with a croissanwich stuffed in his mouth and Gwen points into the conference room, saying, “I ordered food. Got your favorite.” She grins at him and Ianto nods his thanks.

“I didn’t think this place did delivery.”

“They do when I call,” Gwen tells him.

Jack takes a bite, gesturing to the workbench, and starts talking with his mouth full. “It was probably working until we dropped it. And then you must have kick-started it when you, uh, kicked it.”

Gwen frowns. “You kicked it?”

“I didn’t kick it. I… tripped over it. It was his fault.” Ianto points at Jack.

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “It wasn’t doing anything. Other than blocking our equipment,” he concedes with a faint smile. “It wasn’t burnt out, exactly, but it was… I think it used the rift energy to recharge. Like a battery.”

Gwen folds her arms over her chest, looking perturbed. “I just can’t believe that all of that happened by coincidence. It makes no sense.”

“What do you mean?” Ianto asks, stepping up beside them.

“There’s no denying the randomness of the universe.” Jack laughs, softly. “This is just my theory, but I think the Weevil Magnet came through, just like anything, and latched onto the largest source of energy, namely the rift. Blew it wide open, soaking up as much energy as possible while blocking our equipment. The Schn- er, High Watcher, Vic, didn’t mean to come here, but was sucked through following the energy pattern-”

Gwen shakes her head. “But John said it ended up here because of you.”

“John’s a big fat liar who makes stuff up all the time,” Jack answers, instantly. “Those rogue Agents were hired by… Oh, I don’t know… Vic’s own people, probably - they like to keep to their own little corner of the universe, where they’re the big guns - to come after it. They followed Vic through the Rift and… here we are. Gwen, you said it was fleeing something, right?”

“Well, I don’t think its communicator is working properly - it seems to be… missing words or translations to English. But that’s why it sounds like you; it picked up your voice pattern first.”

“It doesn’t sound-”

“ _But_ ,” Gwen continues over him, “it mentioned something about… everything going dark or… disappearing. Something. It said one of their planets just vanished, like maybe it imploded?” she half asks, looking up at Jack and then shrugs. “And it said it escaped before… whatever or whoever could get it, too.”

“Perhaps,” Ianto suggests, “they were looking for it because of the advanced technology its people has?”

“Possibly.” Jack considers it for a moment. “Although, why they’d go for that one, I’m not sure. It’s clearly an escaped criminal, with the shoddy job on the communicator; it was probably not even allowed off planet.”

Gwen chews her lip. “But John said-”

“Lying liar who lies, remember. It may have taken me a bit longer, but I can figure stuff out, too. I still don’t think it’s dangerous to us. It’s not the most advanced of its species. They do some amazing things in the future with technology before they end up destroying themselves.”

“They what?”

“Oh yeah. Intelligence and common sense don’t always go hand in hand. In a few thousand years they create this super computer that wipes out their entire species. Fortunately, the technology and the knowledge of how to build it die with them before anyone else in the universe can replicate it. Judging by the tech this one has, it’s from not too far in the future, less than a century. Earth century,” Jack clarifies. “On its planet, it would probably be the equivalent of the 1300s on Earth.”

“OK.” Gwen nods, not like it’s OK at all. “So, what do we do with it?”

“No idea.”

Ianto looks around. “Where are…”

“They’re down in John’s room,” Gwen says, offhand.

“Doing what?”

Jack waggles his eyebrows, grinning, as he passes. Ianto looks to Gwen and she shrugs. Shaking his head, Ianto mutters, “It doesn’t have a mouth.”

\---

Up in the tourist office, Ianto idly shuffles a few brochures as he’s put on hold for a third time. He sighs, looking about - noting the peeling paint and shabby fixtures, the clutter and general disarray designed to be uninviting - and wonders if he should even bother opening up today. He vaguely begins to recognize the tinny muzak playing in his ear, and now he’s going to have that song stuck in his head all day. Jack never gets put on hold.

There’s a series of clicks and then… “Ianto, what’s this I hear about a spaceship landing in Cardiff?”

“Dr. Jones. You sound busy, thank you for taking my call.”

Martha sighs dramatically in his ear. “Just tell me he’s alright.”

\---

As Ianto makes his way through the hub to Jack’s office, he bumps into Gwen. “Oh, I’ve got something for you.” He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and hands it to her. “The direct line through UNIT. No more waiting.”

“Oh, bless you. If I hear one more bloody note of ‘Greensleeves’, I’ll snap.”

“You can thank Martha personally in a bit; I’m about to get her on the line with Jack. Where are our… guests?”

“John is with Jack in his office and, apparently, Vic’s species take in nutrients through the skin, so it’s in the hothouse soaking it up with the plants.”

Ianto nods and starts on his way, but stops abruptly, turning back to her. “You saw him naked? It, I mean.”

“I know, it’s still weird. But, believe you me, ‘it’ is the only thing that fits. It doesn’t have any…” Gwen gestures down to her lower half, “anything. And, yes. Very, very naked.”

“Wonder how they reproduce.”

“Dunno.” Gwen shrugs. “I hope it’s not like gremlins where you just throw water on them, because it’s been up there for a while and the sprinklers have come on at least twice.”

Ianto’s eyes flick up toward the hothouse and Gwen laughs at him. He aims his ‘stern face’ at her as she hurries to her desk, before rushing off to Jack’s office himself. As he pauses in the doorway, John is saying something in that language again and Jack laughs out loud, throwing his head back. He looks up and, seeing Ianto there, waves him in.

Ianto glances between them. “What’s funny?”

Still sort of chuckling, Jack wipes at his eyes. “Just reminiscing and telling old jokes. It doesn’t really translate into English very well. Or, well, being stuck here, my language skills got a bit rusty, I guess.”

John, sitting on the opposite edge of Jack’s desk, uncrosses his legs and stands up. “It’s your basic ‘a rabbi, a priest and a duck walk into a bar’ joke. Just replace priest with Time Agent and duck with… eh, this thing that has six legs, five eyes, and a lot of mucus and it’s pretty much the same thing.”

“Sure.” Ianto nods, slowly, then lifts his eyebrows. “Jack, if you’ve got a moment?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, looking pointedly at John.

“Whatever.” He saunters out of the room, throwing one last smirk in Ianto’s direction.

Closing the door, Ianto quickly explains his secret ongoing dealings with Dr. Connelly, hoping Jack won’t be upset about this. “She refuses to give up the hospital. So, we made a deal. She’s ours. We’ve set up emergency protocols with the hospital. It’s a bit like what Owen had going only… better. She’s senior staff now. At first, she didn’t want the promotion without earning it, but it’s the only way we could be sure that she would have the authority to oversee all Torchwood business.”

Pursing his lips, Jack says, “This is… this is great. But…”

“But it means we still need a field medic and probably another expert in alien biology. Which is where this comes in. Dr. Jones-”

“Ianto, I told you. I don’t want-”

“Jack. Martha is a soldier. You didn’t do that to her. Besides, she said she’s far too busy with UNIT at the moment and some special projects, but she can provide us with a few people on temporary loan that will rotate on a monthly basis. If you approve, that is. She’s on the line for you.”

Jack stares at him for a moment, then rolls his eyes, sighing, “Alright,” and picks up the phone. “Martha Jones! I’m still waiting on that UNIT cap.”

With a tiny shake of his head, Ianto backs out of the office trying not to laugh. He pauses, looking over at Gwen, but she’s on the phone as well, so he walks over to the kitchen to make some coffee. Glancing around, he notices shadows up in the hothouse and, again, has to wonder what John and an alien that apparently has no sex organs could possibly be doing.

He’s just setting the mugs out on the tray when there’s a holler from Jack’s office. It sounds rather like, “Ya-haa!”

Jack comes bounding out, grinning madly. “Ianto! I hope you’ve still got your dancing shoes. Guess what?”

Stopping next to Gwen’s desk, Ianto sets the tray down and hands her a mug. “Martha’s engaged.”

Gwen sits up straighter, smile widening. “What? Is she still on the line?” She fumbles for her phone again and Jack tells her to hit line one. 

As Gwen babbles happily at Martha, Jack grabs Ianto from behind, spinning him around. In the small space, Ianto trips, but Jack catches him by the elbow and takes his hand. Jack quickly taps a sequence on his wrist strap and slides his other arm around Ianto’s waist to pull him close as soft music fills the hub.

“So,” Jack says, smiling, “I managed to wrangle an invitation to the wedding, but I need a date.”

“Oh, well I’m sure you’ll find someone. Having already been invited, I’ll be looking for my own date, as well.” Jack bares his teeth and growls. Then he tries some tricky dance-step, sweeping them both around and Ianto stumbles, almost losing his balance completely. “Hey, let’s not get fancy.”

“It’s Martha’s sister Tish that can’t wait to meet you.” Jack says quietly into Ianto’s ear, “She… looked after me while I was gone.”

Jack had, after a time, given him what Ianto calls the ‘Cliffs Notes’ version of his time away (and what Ianto believes was really just the blurb on the book jacket). The gist being that Jack was not happy and it was not fun. So, if someone had somehow made it more bearable for Jack, then Ianto is not going to pass up the chance to thank her in person.

Ianto has to keep glancing down at his feet when Jack tries more moves. “Gwen, help me out here,” he complains, pushing away from Jack and pulling Gwen forward. He places her hand in Jack’s and steps away.

She laughs as Jack twirls her around. And Gwen’s not actually all that graceful, either. Or all that adept at following someone else’s lead, but at least she’s small, so that Jack can lift her when she accidentally treads on his toes.

Above them, John steps out of the door from the hothouse and leans over the railing to watch. When Ianto looks up, John stares down at him, his face expressionless.

\---

Ianto waits patiently for the sound of shots to stop echoing before he enters the firing range. Jack must hear the door open, because he turns to Ianto, removing his ear defenders and goggles. Rolling his shoulders, Jack says, “I feel a little better now.”

“Good to hear.” Ianto smiles at him, before reporting the news. “The UNIT team will arrive tomorrow morning at 05:00 to transport the ship.”

Jack frowns, snapping the spent clip out of his gun, and begins cleaning up. “In the morning? Why can’t they do it tonight? You know, under the cover of darkness. Sure the ship isn’t that big, but I think people will notice they aren’t towing a Volkswagen.”

“I was all set to do the standard cover story: new BBC television prop - but they actually have a better way.”

“Oh?”

Ianto waits until Jack looks up. “They’ve got a cloaking device.”

At that, Jack stops. “ _Do_ they? I thought we were all about sharing information these days,” he mutters, wiping the weapons down and placing each in their individual cases. “They do know that the ship is already cloaked, right? It’s practically invisible, but it’s still going to look conspicuous hauling a big, wobbly empty space on a flatbed truck along the M4 surrounded by military vehicles.”

“More of a perception filter then, I guess, than a cloaking device. Supposedly, it projects whatever image they program it to. So anyone who sees the convoy would perceive it as… I don’t know, a traveling circus or something.”

They both grimace at the memories that _that_ mental image conjures up. Jack snaps the last case shut and stands up straight, facing Ianto. “You know,” he says, leaning back against the wall. “We could take it. I could take you out there and show you things you’ve never dreamed of.”

“Perhaps now is the time to mention I have a slight fear of flying and the thought of being out in space with no air makes me panic a bit. Besides, the ship is busted. I’m not zipping around the universe with you rigged up as the power source. That’s just a little outside my comfort zone.”

Jack grins, looking down at his shoes. “I might have come up with a way around that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, was talking with John earlier about the,” Jack gestures vaguely, “Weevil Magnet. If the ship has the right sort of adapters, it could power the engines for… Years, probably.”

Ianto nods, slowly. “You miss it? Being out there?”

“It’s a helluva lot of fun.” Jack pushes away from the wall and walks over to Ianto, slipping one arm around his waist. “I have lifetimes ahead of me to spend out there. Right here, right now, though...”

Looking over Jack’s should, Ianto tries not to smile. “And Captain Hart-”

“Do we have to keep calling him that? He’s just mocking me.”

“What else should we call him?” He meets Jack’s eye. “Do you even remember his real name?”

Jack shrugs. “Can’t you think up something really insulting, but in that subtle and clever Ianto way?”

Laughing slightly, Ianto asks, “Is it wrong that I sort of want to kill him and kiss him at the same time?”

“Well that’s- Did you say _kiss_ him?”

“For saving our arses. And you.”

“I thought you hated him.”

“I don’t-” Ianto rolls his eyes and shrugs. “I just want to shoot him sometimes.”

“He has that effect on a lot of people.” Somehow, Ianto’s hands have found their way to Jack’s shoulders and both of Jack’s hands are on his hips, and they’re nearly dancing again.

“He’s been…” Ianto forces the words out, “Useful, I suppose.” 

“You trust him now?”

“No. I don’t trust him and I don’t like him, but… He fixed the rift predictor, he’s good with alien tech, he seems to recall more than… you and he actually used the rift manipulator to manipulate the rift. Not that that was a good thing, just that he’s the only person I’ve known to use it properly. His skills could come in handy, Jack. And he actually listens to you. For the most part.”

“I may be a bit sluggish from recent death and all, but you’re not honestly suggesting we hire him, are you?”

“It would solve at least one problem.”

“And create about ten more.” Jack’s hand moves around Ianto’s hip to rest just in the dip at the bottom of his spine, not quite over his arse. “Besides, I don’t expect he’ll want to stick around for very long.”

“Probably not. What with all of your stories about all the amazing things out there.”

“You know… I do tend to embellish just a bit.”

“Noooo, really?”

Jack leans in, pulling Ianto against him, and nips at the very tip of Ianto’s turned up nose. “Do you need any firing practice? I thought maybe we could work on your form.” Jack leans back, frowning. “What? Ianto Jones, I know that look on your face. What is it?”

“D’you know… I think he _is_ actually in love with you.” Jack looks surprised and Ianto laughs, self-consciously, looking away. “Never mind.”

“Ianto.” But he can’t look up yet. “Ianto,” Jack says again, raising his fingers to Ianto’s chin and tipping his face until they are eye to eye.

“You haven’t forgotten him. After all these years.”

“No.” Jack shakes his head. “There are people in your life that you never forget.” He bends forward again, resting his forehead against Ianto’s. “I may not remember everything, not accurately. Not forever.”

Nodding, their heads sort of bumping together, Ianto cups Jack’s face and kisses him.

“ _Jack? Ianto? You down there?_ ” Gwen’s voice over the intercom echoes through the cavernous, abandoned tunnel.

They pull apart and Jack reaches up to tap his ear. “Gwen- Damn, I left my-”

“I’ve got mine,” Ianto says. “Gwen, we’re here. What is it?”

“ _John’s gone_.”

They exchange a look before bolting for the door. Bypassing the lift, they go straight up the stairs, barreling out into the hub to find Gwen at the tech computer searching the CCTV.

“The SUV’s gone, too,” she reports, without even turning to look at them.

Jack stops in the middle of the room, feet planted apart with his hands on his hips. “Where’s Vic?” he asks, as though he already knows the answer.

Gwen glances around, furtively, but Ianto notices something else. “Look.” He points to the empty workbench. “The Weevil Magnet is gone, too.”

“No. No, no, no, I’m going to kill him!” Jack barks, clenching his fists. “Gwen, weapons! Come with me.” Jack hurries for his coat and his holster, checking his revolver as he goes. “Ianto, go get your car and meet us on the Plass.” Jack’s up on the invisible lift, barely waiting for Gwen to hop up next to him before setting it in motion.

“Why do we always have to take _my_ car?” Ianto mutters to himself, checking the CCTV one last time, before grabbing his coat and his keys and racing off to the car park.

He refuses to let Jack drive and Jack tries to give directions, frantically. It takes Ianto more than a few frustrated minutes to figure out where it is Jack thinks they’re headed.

Fortunately, at least one of them had been alive _and_ paying attention on the last ride back to remember how to get there. Gwen’s backseat driving almost lands them in a ditch, but they make it back out to ‘Jubilee Fields’ in one piece.

The police cordon is still up, yellow ‘Caution’ tape shining in the glare of the headlights, ghostly flapping in the dark. They try to stop Ianto’s car until Jack leans out the door and yells, “Torchwood!”

“But- but you lot just went through,” a young constable stammers as Ianto drives on and Gwen pulls Jack back inside. Ianto’s car is compact and not built for off-road; they jostle over bumps and tree roots and slosh through mud.

Finally, spotting the SUV - left open and unattended - Ianto pulls up next to it. Jack leaps out before the car is even stopped. Gwen chases after Jack and Ianto checks the SUV. Everything looks intact. He grabs a torch and locks the SUV, then follows the others deeper into the woods.

The clearing is just the same, except for the visible patch of muddied grass and the broken tree limbs littered about. A violent wind whips Ianto’s coat around him and sends dirt and grit into his eyes. He forces his way through to where Jack and Gwen are standing, staring up and up.

Above them there is a light spot against the dark sky; neither visible nor completely _in_ visible, the ship rises steadily higher and higher. Then there’s a bright flash, illuminating the night, and a second later a great boom and gust of air, throwing Ianto, Jack and Gwen off their feet and to the ground in a whoosh.

Ianto gets a mouthful of grass and mud and dead leaves. He rolls over and leans up on his elbows. Gwen is picking twigs and leaves from her hair.

“Damn.” Jack is the first to his feet, his hair standing wildly on end. He flips his wrist strap open and walks a few paces around the clearing. “Bastard stole my ship.”

Slowly, Ianto gets his feet under him, helping Gwen up as well, and his body is just far too young to be making these kinds of creaks and groans. He glances around them, suddenly remembering.

“The bodies.” Jack and Gwen turn to him. “They were still on the ship; we hadn’t organized transport back to the morgue yet.”

“Oh.” Jack considers this for a moment. “They’ll probably be recycled. John’s resourceful.”

Gwen is busily brushing dirt and leaves off of her jeans and jacket. “Recycled into wha-” She stops. “Oh. No, I don’t want to know.”

Jack quickly pats his pockets down, scowling. “He took the other Vortex Manipulator, too. I almost had it figured out,” he grumbles, heaving a big sigh.

“Well,” Ianto says, stepping up beside Jack, “he’s gone. Our friend the giant pink alien is gone-”

“Oh, God.” Gwen looks worried. “I hope Vic’s going to be OK.”

Jack laughs at that, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “I think it will be fine. Perfectly capable of handling itself.”

Gwen nods. “It did say it wanted to see the universe.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Jack asks, putting his other arm around Ianto and drawing him close. “I’d have taken you both out there and shown you the stars.”

“We can see the stars just fine from here, Jack.” Gwen points up, past the treetops into the sky. “See? And they’re just as lovely.”

“Us Welsh, see,” Ianto says, sliding his arm around Jack’s back. “We like to keep our feet on the ground.”

 

Somewhere, some _when_ , Jack is out there: flying, fighting, fucking and failing. He’s onboard the TARDIS, and lost on a new planet. Trapped in the past, _and_ the future, about to die, waiting for the executioner, or the volcano to blow. Running for his life, running _from_ his life, chasing after love or dreams or impossible fancies. All the things he hasn’t done yet, and will be doing forever.

Life is made up of moments, all happening simultaneously, scattered throughout time and space in bits and pieces with no end and no beginning. And right here. He’ll hold onto this for as long as he can.

 

Jack tightens his grip, hugging Gwen and Ianto closer to him. "So... who's going to inform UNIT that we let the ship get stolen?"

 

\- [The End is Where We Start From](http://www.columbia.edu/itc/history/winter/w3206/edit/tseliotlittlegidding.html)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was completed on 04/17/09.
> 
> Sadly, the soundtrack is no longer available for download.


End file.
